Presumption
by emeraldorchids
Summary: Miranda overhears her assistant on the phone and presumes she's the subject of the conversation. When they find themselves on a tropical island where Miranda is having an anxiety attack, Andrea's presumptions almost cost her her job-and the woman.
1. Chapter 1

"That is none of my business. Please stop calling me. Thank you," Andrea said, hanging up the phone for possibly the third time that morning. She looked up at Emily who was pretending she didn't hear that conversation. "I'm going to see if those samples are ready in the Closet," she said as she stood and walked down the hall.

Four months ago, Miranda Priestly hired her on a whim. She wasn't like any of the assistants who had previously worked at _Runway_, and everyone was still trying to figure out whether that was good or bad.

While everyone spent the majority of their time complaining about Miranda's leadership style, Andrea took the opportunity to sit back and observe. Miranda was certainly capable of living up to the monikers bestowed on her by the press, but there was more to it than that. Andrea soon saw just how effective a leader she was. She once said, "It's amazing what you can get if you quietly, clearly, and authoritatively demand it," and Andrea was shocked to realize how truthful that statement was.

Sure, she complained about the woman like everyone else. Miranda worked her employees like no other, constantly driving them to perform better, quicker, and smarter. Sometimes it felt like torture, but other times, the end result was worth the effort.

The samples were not ready when she arrived at the Closet. She knew they wouldn't be, but she needed an excuse to get up from her desk.

"Andy, I told you we wouldn't have these until at least 2 PM. We need another hour or so," Jocelyn explained.

"I understand," she said. "I told Miranda I would personally come check on our progress, that's all." In reality, she told Miranda no such thing, but she knew no one would dare question Miranda's word.

Jocelyn sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay, um, come back in twenty minutes. I'll have the first two sets ready. By the time Miranda gets through them, I'll deliver the third myself."

"Great," Andrea said. "Thank you so much, Jocelyn. I think she'll be really pleased with that."

When she first started, she felt guilty lying to her peers and coercing them into working harder. Now, she hardly even flinched.

Sure enough, within an hour, Miranda had the full set of samples to peruse, hours before she had been expecting them. Another crisis averted, she thought.

Later that evening, Emily had gone home and only Andrea, Miranda, and a handful of operations staff remained in the office. Being the most junior assistant, Andrea was always the one to stay at the office after hours with Miranda.

The telephone rang, and Andrea immediately recognized the number. Seeing that Miranda's office door was closed, she picked up the receiver and turned to face the kitchen.

"Hi Mom."

"Andy. Honey, don't get mad at me."

"Mom, I'm not. It's just—you are blowing this out of proportion."

"She's going to turn your sister into a lesbian!"

"Mom! Stop it! Jill is a big girl and can make her own decisions. The fact that she's been spending a lot of time with her new boss does _not_ mean she's turning into a lesbian. Oh my god, there are just so many things wrong with that statement."

"Andy, you have to admit that it's strange. Now, you aren't going for coffee and lunch and happy hour and shopping with your boss, are you? I don't do it either. It's not right," she said.

"Mom, that's an erroneous comparison. One, I work for Miranda fucking Priestly. I do not believe it would be appropriate to compare her to any other employer in the history of employers. Ever."

Just then, Miranda opened her office door and stood in the doorway. Andrea, who still had her back turned, was talking animatedly on the phone.

"Two, just because a smart, beautiful, powerful, independent woman is single does _not_ give you the right to make presumptions about her sexual preference!"

"Andy, now calm down. You don't even know this woman. Why are you so defensive?"

"No, I don't, but it shouldn't matter. How the woman chooses to live her life is her business, not mine, and certainly not yours. If she's a lesbian, great. If she's straight, great. If she's looking for a partner, I hope she finds someone who can love her how she deserves. If it turns out that she's perfectly content living by herself, I hope to god that people like you will lay off her fucking back. As I said before, _do not call me_ about this again!" Andrea said, quickly spinning around in her chair and slamming the phone back into the cradle. "Ooh!" she gasped, seeing Miranda standing in the doorframe.

"Andrea—"

"Miranda, I'm so sorry for the disruption," she said, gently biting her lower lip.

"Andrea, while I'm flattered, you needn't defend me so vehemently. People will say what they will."

Andrea stared at her, dumbfounded. "H-how much of my conversation did you hear?"

"Enough," Miranda said. "It's nothing I haven't heard before. I would prefer, though, that you would simply reply 'no comment' as these conversations sometimes make their way into the papers and words can become twisted."

"Again, I apologize. Just so we're clear, though, I was speaking with my mother, and we were discussing one of my sister's friends."

Miranda's eyes widened as she inhaled sharply.

"But I do believe what I said one hundred percent. No one has the right to presume such things about anyone, and I sincerely apologize if that has ever been directed at you."

Miranda pursed her lips as tears welled in her eyes. She hurried back into her office as the tears began falling down her cheeks.

Andrea felt horrible. As much as she was sure Miranda wanted to be alone, she needed to check that she was okay. She quietly made her way into the editor's office and was surprised to see the woman sitting in one of the chairs on the opposite side of her desk.

"Miranda, may I sit?" she asked, gesturing at the chair next to her.

The woman nodded as she dabbed at her eye with a tissue.

"You must know it was not my intent to stir this up," she said. "Do you want to talk about it at all?"

"No," she said. "It's just—there's so much pressure."

Andrea softly nodded. So much for not wanting to talk about it, she thought.

"I used to make sure I was photographed on the arms of men, just to keep the questions away. Somehow, it was easier to deal with the question of how many men were in my bed on a given weekend than…well, than the alternative." She paused for a moment. "I am straight, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't, because it doesn't matter to me, but thank you for sharing."

Miranda sighed. "I've been married. I've had live-in boyfriends, one-night-stands, friends-with-benefits, and just about everything in between. At the end of the day, I prefer to be alone. Why is that so hard to understand?"

TBC

A/N: It's been forever since I've written anything. This is far from being finished and I can't say that I totally know where it's going, but I'm hoping that by posting a little bit of it, it will pressure me into writing the rest. Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: I got distracted while writing this one, and pushed it off to the side. However, since I've already posted one chapter (almost a year ago!), I'm recommitting to finishing it. This is really just a fluff chapter, but I hope you enjoy. :)_

* * *

The next week went by painfully slow. As much as Andrea tried to stay out of Miranda's way, it seemed as if the universe was pushing them together.

Neither of them had discussed the phone call or following conversation—that is, until Andrea came across an invitation to Donatella's daughter's wedding next month. Donatella really should have known better than to put "Miranda Priestly + Guest" on the invite, but then again, Miranda would probably be more hurt if she left it off completely.

Andy considered slipping it on Miranda's desk when she was out of the office so as to avoid conversation around it, but in doing so, she knew Miranda would _know_ that she had been the one to set it down, and after their conversation…she couldn't do that to her. So she waited until Thursday evening when Miranda had stayed late to work on the budget.

Most of the other staff had left, so Andrea grabbed the crisp white linen envelope and approached the editor's office.

"Yes?" Miranda called, not looking up from her work.

"An invitation came in the mail for Donatella's daughter's wedding—it's next month," she said, stepping closer and handing the invite to the woman. "I can respond for you, I just wasn't sure—" her voice trailed off at the end, and Miranda looked up.

"Whether I would be attending by myself," she said, sighing and removing her glasses. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to blink back her tears.

Andrea's heart sank, seeing the woman like this, but suddenly, she had an idea. "Well, sort of. I was actually thinking about how beautiful Fiji must be and how I would love to go," she said.

Miranda looked at her curiously. "As in, with me?"

"Technically, I guess I would be your so-called 'plus one,' but I really just need an excuse. I would pay my own way and everything—that's not an issue. My mom has this thing about me traveling by myself, which is just unfair. The guys I've dated have been either too poor or too boring, so I never got to travel. But if I say it's for work and I'm going because you are, my mom won't question it," she said with a smile.

Miranda chuckled and shook her head. "You just invited yourself as my plus one to my good friend's wedding."

Andrea's eyes widened. "No! That's not what I meant. I mean, if you really wanted me to go to the actual wedding with you, I would, but I…oh, never mind. I was just being selfish and thinking of a way I could take a vacation without my mother stopping me."

"Oh, I see," she said.

The woman looked as though she was going to start crying again. "Miranda, I'm sorry. Look, I keep saying the wrong thing. I can't get that conversation from last week out of my mind. I thought maybe I could go and keep you company or something. I know, it was silly."

"Andrea stop," Miranda said, raising her hand up. "I am flattered and would very much enjoy your company."

The young woman sighed. "But…?"

"But nothing. If you don't mind spending a few hours a day checking emails, I can even manage to work it into _Runway_'s budget. Because we only sent two people to Milan this year instead of the whole team, we have a considerable travel budget that was untouched. And I know if I don't use it by the end of the year, Irv will feel the need to lower my budget next year."

"So…I'm going to Fiji?"

"_We_ are going to Fiji," she said with a smile. "Have Nigel—no, actually, let's give Emily a shot. Have her pull a wardrobe for both of us."

"But Emily and I do not dress alike at all!"'

"Exactly. It's one thing to dress yourself, but to dress someone else with respect to the person's own individual style is much more challenging. Emily applied for a position as a buyer, and I think this is the perfect test to give her," Miranda explained.

"Okay. Um, thank you, Miranda."

Miranda shook her head. "Silly girl," she muttered, turning back to her computer.

* * *

Again, the two didn't really talk much for the next three weeks. Andrea was busy making preparations to Miranda's schedule as well as her own, and their trip was here sooner than they could imagine.

"Andrea," Miranda called. "Come in and shut the door."

"Yes, Miranda?" the young woman said, standing in front of her desk.

"Our flight leaves tonight?"

"Yes, at 8pm. Roy will pickup your bags from the townhouse later this afternoon, then he will come by to take us to the airport."

"Very well. And how long is the flight?"

"It's six hours to LAX, then from there, another 18 hours to Nadi," the young woman replied.

"And in Nadi?"

"When we land, a car will take us to the Intercontinental Fiji, which is about two miles from the Sheraton, where the wedding is taking place."

"And the rooms are suitable?"

"Yes. Your suite is stunning. I've already sent the hotel a list of items you'll request—including a rug," she said. When the editor looked at her quizzically, she replied, "All the floors are ceramic tile. With the storms in the offseason, they sometimes get salt and sand inside and it's easier to maintain."

"I see."

"Miranda, remember that this is a beach wedding. Donatella did not invite many people. The dress is casual."

Miranda rolled her eyes.

Andrea bit back her reaction and took a deep breath. "Roy should be here around 5:30 PM," she said, turning around and marching out of the office.

It was infuriating sometimes—the way Miranda talked to her. If she didn't trust her, Andrea thought, she could go by herself. Remembering the older woman's tears and loneliness the other night, however, made her think otherwise.

Later that afternoon, they rode to the airport in silence. Andrea was still unsure how she would be expected to act during this trip, but something told her not to bring it up just yet. When they arrived, they breezed through security, and soon found themselves in the Admirals Club at the United terminal. Miranda excused herself to go change, while Andrea grabbed a hot tea.

When the woman returned, she looked considerably more relaxed in loose and flow black cotton pants, paired with a snug black tank and matching black cotton draped cardigan.

"I hope you're not a chatterbox on the flight," Miranda said, sitting next to the young woman with a cup of hot tea for herself. "I am hoping to get some much-needed sleep tonight."

"Don't worry," Andrea said. "I booked you your usual."

"2A and 2B?" Miranda asked.

"Yes."

"And where are you?"

"21 C. But it's fine. I'm on the aisle."

Miranda frowned. "The aisle is a nuisance when people climb over you to go to the bathroom. Tell me, did you book the same for the flight from Los Angeles to Fiji?"

"Yes, why?"

"Andrea, that is an extremely long flight. You'll be miserable."

"It's fine, really. I'm just grateful to go," she added with a smile.

Miranda nodded and let the subject go. When they landed in Los Angeles, she would have her switch.

The flight to Los Angeles was a bit bumpy, but Andrea was busy emailing and making to-do lists, so she hardly noticed. After they had passed over Denver, she got a text from Miranda, thanks to the on-board wifi.

_How was the flight back in coach? -M_

Andrea smiled and replied: _Great. Empty seats next to me—no climb-overs. :) I was able to catch up on a lot of email and take care of a lot of items for this week, actually. _

And Miranda's reply: _You don't have to do that. It's the middle of the night. Think of this as a vacation… _

Andrea chuckled and closed her laptop. _I'll see you at the gate,_ she wrote, turning her phone off completely.

When they arrived in LA, they had only 40 minutes to hurry through the airport, get through customs, and board the flight for Fiji. They were both walking so quickly, when they finally arrived at the gate, they were out of breath.

"Ladies, if you'll just have a seat, please. Boarding has been delayed approximately 30 minutes, as the plane landed late and they're still cleaning it," the flight attendant said.

Andrea took a deep breath and handed Miranda a bottle of water from her purse. "I'm going to go grab a snack or something. Do you want anything?" she asked. Miranda shook her head, and motioned for Andrea to leave her carry-on bag there with her. While she waited, she overheard the airlines making an announcement that it would be a full flight.

When the young woman returned with a Sprite and bag of Sour Cream &amp; Cheddar potato chips, Miranda pursed her lips.

"Ok, Miranda, it's vacation. Don't purse your lips until you've tasted one."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "No thank you. When you've finished that, notify the airlines that you'll be sitting in business class with me," she added.

"Wait, what?"

"It's a full flight. You needn't sit next to screaming children for 10 hours when there's a perfectly good seat next to me," Miranda said.

"Oh, okay. You're sure you don't mind?"

Miranda glared at her.

"Right," Andrea said, walking over to the flight attendants and letting them know of the slight change.

.

.

TBC ...&amp; please leave me reviews &amp; comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

When they arrived in Fiji, it was a few hours before sunrise. Miranda hadn't slept well on the flight, and based on the number of times she had to climb over her to use the bathroom and the fact that she passed on breakfast, Andrea would guess she wasn't feeling too well, either.

As they headed to the customs line, Andrea gasped, seeing how massively long it was—even the priority line.

"I'll wait in line. Find somewhere to sit and I'll text you when we're close," Andrea said. The older woman nodded and swayed slightly. Andrea reached out for her arm and walked her over to a seat along the wall. She squatted next to her, digging in her carry-on and pulling out a bottle of water, a granola bar, a bruised apple, and an unopened package of peach ring gummies.

"It's not much," she said, handing the items to Miranda, "but you need to eat and drink something. You're probably dehydrated," she added.

"Thank you," Miranda said before she took a tiny sip of water. "I'm fine. Go stand in that line."

It was another hour before they were finally through customs, baggage claim, and at the taxi stand. Miranda insisted that she was feeling fine, so when their car pulled up, they loaded their bags and were on their way to the hotel.

"Wow, this is beautiful," Andrea said, stepping out of the car and into the hotel. "I'll check us in—you can wait here if you'd like," she added.

After Miranda tipped the driver and the bellhop secured their bags on a cart, she joined the young woman at the desk.

"What do you mean you're _sold out_?" Andrea asked. "I have confirmation—a one-bedroom suite and a pool-view room. There's _nothing_ else available?"

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Like I said, the suite is ready for you, but due to unforeseen maintenance issues yesterday, the pool-view room is unavailable until later this week. All of our other rooms are booked, but we can certainly offer you a free night for your next stay."

"Why would I want a free night? I need somewhere to sleep _tonight!_" she shouted.

"Andrea, what is going on?" Miranda asked.

"Sorry. Your room is ready. Mine isn't, and won't be for a few days. As you heard, they have nowhere for me to stay, so I'll have to go find another hotel."

"Can we go to the Sheraton where the wedding is?" Miranda asked.

"Those rooms are awful in comparison—you wouldn't want to stay there. I'll call and see if they have a room for me, though."

"Wait," Miranda said, grabbing her elbow. "Why don't you just stay with me?"

"Oh Miranda, I just couldn't."

"Nonsense. At least for today. I'm sure you're exhausted. Let's get some rest, shower, have something to eat, and then figure it out."

"Fine," Andrea said, returning to the desk and retrieving the key to their room.

When they entered the room, it was so stunning, even Miranda was surprised. The island-style decor was tasteful, and the materials were premium quality. Their room had a bathtub out on the balcony, as well as a private pool and an incredible view.

"Do you mind if I shower first? I'll be quick—" Andrea said, setting her bags down next to the couch.

"No, not at all," she said, knowing she had a few calls to make back home to _Runway_.

When Andrea stepped out of the shower, she toweled off and slipped into light cotton sundress and wrapped a towel around her hair. The room was perfectly quiet when she left the bathroom, and a quick peek into the bedroom confirmed that Miranda had fallen asleep.

Andrea quietly returned to the sitting room where she rearranged some of the pillows on the couch and closed her eyes. She tossed and turned, until she realized that she wasn't actually tired. She sat up and opened her computer, looking up information on the other hotels in the area where there might be a vacancy.

From the other room, she heard Miranda call her name, and she quickly set her computer on the couch and entered the other room.

"I need something for my stomach. Can you look for the Alka-Seltzer in my bag?" she asked, groaning as she curled up into a ball on the bed.

"Of course," Andrea said, digging through Miranda's suitcase. When she found the Alka-Seltzer, she grabbed a clean glass and mixed the tablet with a bottle of water until it had all dissolved.

"I can't find a straw," she said, handing the woman the glass.

Miranda sat up with a grunt and accepted the drink, forcing it down.

"Do you need me to call a doctor? How long has this been going on?"

"No. I have been queasy since leaving LA. Hopefully this will help," she said. "Is there a blanket?"

Andrea smiled. "Yeah, you're sitting on it. Here," she said, holding her hand out.

The woman accepted and pulled herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the young woman while she pulled the comforter back. She fell into the bed with an oomph and Andrea draped the comforter over her, tucking her in like a child.

"If you need anything, I'll just be…" Miranda was already fast asleep.

Andrea sat at the edge of the bed and gently rubbed the sleeping woman's back. She had thought the woman would have a relaxing time off, and hoped that her illness wasn't anything serious.

Several hours later, Miranda woke up to find the young woman draped across her, fast asleep. "Andrea," she whispered, nudging the woman's shoulder.

The young woman woke and quickly jumped off the bed. "Miranda! I'm so sorry," she said.

Miranda swung her feet around and sat up on the bed. "Don't worry—I was sleeping so soundly, I didn't even notice."

"Are you feeling better?" Andrea asked.

"Yes, much. I'll go shower, then perhaps we can take a walk around," she said, getting up and walking into the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Andrea called at least ten different hotels nearby, and none had any rooms available for the next seven days. Just as she was looking up Airbnb, Miranda emerged, ready to set out in search of lunch—or more realistically, dinner.

"This really is a beautiful resort," Miranda said.

"Yeah, I just wish I had a room here," Andrea muttered.

"I almost forgot you were room-less. Why don't you just stay with me?"

"I couldn't do that."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you can. I'm offering you a couch and a shared bathroom—hardly anything too generous," Miranda said.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'll stay on the couch in your suite—tonight, anyway. I made a few calls this afternoon but most of the nearby hotels were booked solid for some golf convention," Andrea said.

They made their way to the main building in relative silence, selecting a waterfront open-air restaurant and having a marvelous island-inspired cocktail while waiting for their meal. Andrea ordered a pecan-crusted salmon with green beans and pineapple, while Miranda opted for soup and salad.

Dinner was delicious, and conversation was surprisingly easy. Miranda had only ever been to Fiji once before, many years ago, with her first husband on their honeymoon. That certainly wasn't the reason she hadn't returned, but she couldn't deny the island held a special place in her heart.

Miranda stepped away from the table while they were waiting for dessert so she could call Donatello. They arranged to meet at 7 the next morning for breakfast at the hotel, and Miranda was looking forward to catching up with her Italian friend in a casual setting.

She returned to the table just as desserts were set in front of them—mango sorbet for her and tropical creme brûlée for Andrea. She tasted her sorbet and hummed in appreciation.

"Oh my god, you have to taste this," Andrea said, holding a spoonful of her creme brûlée out for Miranda.

The editor was shocked at the gesture, but didn't want to disappoint the young woman, so she tasted the offering. "Mmm," she hummed. The creme brûlée was, in fact, divine. "That fresh toasted coconut on top really was delightful," she added.

They finished dinner in silence, and opted to head back to the room, making it an early night. Miranda always felt it was very important to sync with the timezone within the first twenty-four hours, and if that meant going to bed when you weren't tired, so be it.

Andrea made herself comfortable on the couch with the extra linens and pillows the hotel delivered. Miranda was spending a lot of time in the bathroom removing her makeup and such, so Andrea just turned out the lights and tried to fall asleep.

As Miranda lay awake in the other room, her thoughts drifted to the young woman and how kind she had been…

The next morning, Miranda was up and out the door before Andrea woke. As she walked along the beachfront path to the cafe where she was meeting Donatella, she decided she wasn't going to mention that she was here with Andrea, for fear that her friend would judge her.

At the cafe, Miranda didn't see Donatella, so she took a table by herself and gazed out at the ocean while she waited. A short while later, the Italian woman arrived, interrupting the editor's serene moment. Miranda stood and exchanged air kisses, but she was confused when Donatella took her arm and started leading her away from the table.

"Come, come sit with everyone else. Roberto, pull a chair up for my good friend Miranda," she said.

Miranda watched wide-eyed as the table for eight suddenly became a table for nine. A quick glance around the table confirmed her suspicions that she was the only one there alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude," she began.

"Nonsense, you sit," Donatella said.

Miranda plastered on a fake smile and traded her coffee for a mimosa.

* * *

Back in the room, Andrea wasn't sure when Miranda would be back, so she set out on her own, walking along the beautiful white beaches. When she found the most perfectly shaded spot next to a palm tree, she took a seat and pulled a book out of her bag.

After a few too many mimosas, Miranda started walking back to her hotel. Andrea happened to look up from her book at just the right time to see the older woman crying and walking along the beach.

"Miranda?"

The editor stopped and wiped her eyes. "I was just walking back," she said.

"Housekeeping is probably still in the room. Is everything okay?" Andrea asked.

Miranda glared at her.

"Um, do you want to grab a drink?" Andrea asked, trying a different approach.

Miranda scrunched up her nose and shook her head. Her eyes darted nervously back down the path, towards the cafe she just left.

Andrea must have realized what she was thinking, because she suggested they take a walk in the other direction. As they walked along the beach in silence, Miranda struggled to keep her composure. She didn't think it would impact her so much, being alone at one of these things. She must have started sniffling again, because the younger woman reached down and squeezed her hand.

Miranda returned the squeeze, but didn't let go. Even if it was simply her assistant, that connection was a reminder that she was not alone.

Before she realized it, the young woman had led them back to the hotel and its private beaches, which were significantly less populated than the others. Andrea stopped when they reached the path that led back to their suite.

"Do you want to talk?" Andrea asked.

"No," she replied quickly, releasing her hand. She took a deep breath and walked down towards the water, eventually taking a seat on the sand and pulling her knees up to her chest. She hugged her knees tightly and buried her head in her arms.

The young woman hesitated, but soon Miranda felt her presence in the sand beside her.

"I want to be alone," she said, flinching at Andrea's gentle hand on her back. "Go away."

But still, the young woman didn't move. Miranda raised her head and glared at her.

"You think you know what I want, don't you? You think I'm just lonely and hurt and that I appreciate your presence. Well guess what? You're wrong. Every second I see you or feel you or hear you—it's a constant reminder that I brought my fucking assistant across the world because I had no one else. Please—I want to be alone right now," she said, tucking her head back into her arms.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. I didn't mean to upset you," she said, pushing herself up and leaving the woman's side.

Miranda thought about her words, and instantly regretted what she said. It's true that the young woman's presence was a reminder of her loneliness, but the comfort of her touch and her companionship far outweighed those feelings. She took a few deep breath and stretched her arms out over her head. She needed some endorphins—maybe a yoga class on the beach, she thought.

She stood up and bent over to touch her toes. After a few more deep calming breaths, she gathered her things and began walking back to their suite, ready to apologize to the young woman.

When she reached the door, she was surprised to see Andrea leaving with her suitcase in her hand.

"Where are you going?"

"You asked me to leave," she said. Her eyes looked as though she'd been crying, and Miranda felt a pang in her chest.

"Please don't go. I am truly sorry for what I said. Yes, you're my assistant, but you're more than that. You're a companion of sorts. Please, come inside," she said.

Andrea shrugged.

"Don't look so sad," Miranda said, walking up to the young woman and embracing her. "Let's go inside and I'll tell you all about my horrible breakfast with Donatella's extended family," she said.

Andrea pulled back and looked at her in surprise. "The whole family was there?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Yes, can you believe it? Husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. I made it an odd number."

Andrea shook her head and hugged her again tightly. "Okay, let's go inside. Coffee?"

"Yes, please," she said with a smile.

.

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TBC... let me know what you think. I was having some issues with voice early on (probably because i started it such a long time ago), but I think i've got that figured out now. reviews feed the soul. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Back in their suite, Miranda made the coffee while Andrea unpacked a few of her items and hung them back in the closet.

"Where were you going to go?" Miranda asked, handing the young woman a cup of coffee as she sat on the couch with her own.

"Another hotel?" she said with a shrug.

Miranda shook her head. "I haven't felt that out of place in a long time," she said, thinking back to the morning's events.

"Weren't you just supposed to meet Donatella?"

"That's what I thought," Miranda said, taking a sip from her coffee. "Clearly wasn't the case. They had to add a seat for me," she added, recalling the way in which they pulled a chair up to the corner edge of the table. "Were it not for the bottomless mimosa, light on the orange juice, I would have left sooner."

Andrea reached out and laid her hand on Miranda's arm. "You realize how wrong this whole situation is, right?"

Miranda's eyes widened and her skin prickled as she imagined Andrea in her bed, in her arms.

"You know, it's laughable," she continued, "that _you—_of all people—feel uncomfortable in a social situation."

"Oh, _that_," Miranda said, sighing in relief. "Yes. I realize how it might look, but you know, I am a private person. Why do you think I hate going to all those functions?"

"I guess that makes sense," Andrea said. "I never would have noticed. You always seem so comfortable and at ease."

Miranda sighed. It was true. She had worked hard her entire life to fit in, to be at ease in social situations, to quell her anxiety. But here, on the other side of the world, far away from her comfort zone in New York City, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

A gentle squeeze from Andrea's hand jolted her from her thoughts. The young woman looked at her quizzically, and Miranda shook her head.

"Sorry, lost in my thoughts for a minute," she said.

"Care to share?" Andrea asked. "I understand if you don't want to…"

Miranda set her coffee mug on the table and turned to face the young woman. "It's difficult for me right now, so far away from my comfort zone in New York. I've struggled with anxiety all my life, but I've learned how to be high-functioning in spite of it all. Here, it just feels like I am completely exposed, and it's terrifying if I let myself think about it," she admitted.

"Is there anything I can do?" Andrea asked, gently squeezing her hand.

The woman reached her other hand up and wiped the tears from her eye as she shook her head. "You have no idea how helpful it is to just sit here with you and have you ask that," she said.

Andrea smiled. "Do you get panic attacks or anything? What can I do to be more helpful?" she asked.

"Not often. I've spent too many years dealing with them—I usually catch the feelings early enough. Alcohol sometimes impairs that response, though. You are too sweet to ask," she added.

"Well, I mean it. I'll admit I don't know much about anxiety. I just want to help."

The editor thought about it for a minute before responding. "You already do so much that you don't realize," she explained. "When I need to cancel or change plans, you are always supportive and never make me feel guilty for doing so. When I call you, you always answer. When I need to be left alone, you respect that—well, usually," she added with a smile. "That helps me immensely. Part of living with anxiety is the constant feel that you're a burden to those around you. Usually, talking about it makes me feel worse. Professionally, I've carved out my role in such a way that I rarely have to convince myself that I'm not a burden. But in my personal life, that is not the case."

"Oh, Miranda, I can't believe someone would think you're a burden," the young woman said.

"I know. It's irrational, but that's the anxiety. I irrationally believe things to be true, even though they're not. It's not about other people actually thinking it, it's me imagining that others are thinking it. And then I end up feeling like I am going do die because of the anxiety and resulting guilt. It's a vicious trap, and because I don't have too many others in my life, sometimes it's a challenge to snap out of it."

"What helps? Me telling you that you're not a burden?"

Miranda chuckled. "Well, yes, that would definitely help. But you'd have to recognize it first, which is difficult. I don't know that I even recognize it all the time."

"When you pinch the bridge of your nose—is that a sign?" Andrea asked.

The woman shook her head. "By then it's been going on for hours and has already turned into a raging migraine. You know, it also helps if I know that I'm not putting others out, but that rarely ever happens. I put everyone out—constantly."

"That's not true! Miranda, you agreed to come on this trip because _I _wanted to go, and you found a way for _Runway_ to pay for it."

"But I can't cope with a silly breakfast and now you're sitting here on the couch consoling me when you could be off enjoying yourself," the editor said.

"That's not true," Andrea said. "Really, we have 6 days here to explore the island. I like getting to know you better. I want to be here with you. You are not a burden," she added.

At that, the tears began to fall from Miranda's eyes. She pulled her hand away and buried her face in her hands as she cried. She couldn't believe the young woman was saying such kind things to her. There's no way that she actually meant that, not after the way Miranda had treated her over the past few months. She got up from the couch and curled up on the bed, quietly crying into the pillow.

Not long after, she felt the mattress dip and felt Andrea's hand on her shoulder.

"I am so sorry you're experiencing this," the young woman said quietly. "And I honestly want to help you."

Miranda didn't respond, and the next thing she knew, Andrea was behind her, holding her, whispering in her ear that she was safe and not a burden. She lost track of time, but soon realized she was no longer crying. Despite the coffee, her exhaustion from the day's emotions began to take its toll and she felt her eyelids growing heavy.

* * *

When she woke some time later, her entire body was stiff. She rolled onto her back and realized that the sun had set and it was completely dark outside. Sitting up, she noticed a faint glow coming from out on the patio, and once her eyes adjusted, she was able to make out the brunette in the bathtub. She had her hair piled on top of her head with a barrette and an empty wine glass sat on the ledge.

She quietly got out of bed and went to the bathroom, intending to join the young woman on the patio. It looked so serene and relaxing…but on second thought, she changed her mind. She had already exposed so much, she couldn't risk pushing it. Instead, she decided to take a shower and order something to eat, as it was nearly midnight.

When she finished her shower, she half expected the brunette to have stepped inside after her bath, but Andrea was still out on the patio. Miranda grabbed one of the fluffy spa robes from the hook in the bathroom and stepped out onto the patio, cautiously walking over to the young woman. She inhaled sharply when she reached the tub. The water was perfectly still and clear, and Andrea appeared to be asleep. Pausing for only a brief moment to gaze at the woman's slender body, she held up the robe and gently squeezed her hand.

"Andrea, wake up. Come inside, it's getting late," she said.

The young woman arched her back to stretch, causing her breasts to rise above the water line. The cool night air against her skin quickly woke her up and she immediately reached her hand across her chest.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!"

Miranda chuckled and turned her head, holding the robe up for the young woman.

Andrea quickly got out of the water and tied the robe around her waist. "Thanks," she said, blushing profusely as she pulled the tie on the robe even tighter.

Miranda reached for her elbow and led her back into the suite. "You have a beautiful body, my dear. Do not be embarrassed, okay?" At the young woman's reluctant nod, Miranda led her over to the kitchen area where a crudite platter and some pitas were laid out.

"I was starving when I woke, so I ordered something light," Miranda said. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

The young woman looked up at her in surprise. "As in, where am I staying tomorrow night?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "No. Are you exploring more of the island tomorrow? I'm afraid my issues interrupted your leisurely beach reading this afternoon."

The younger woman smiled and shook her head. "Just planning to play it by ear. If it's sunny, I was thinking of loading up on the sunblock and heading to the beach… If you want to join."

"Perhaps," Miranda said, spreading some hummus on a carrot and crunching it loudly.

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, the two women headed down to the beach. Miranda wore a white linen long sleeve shirt, long pants, and a giant sun hat, while Andrea wore not much more than a towel. Miranda chuckled to herself, remembering a time when she was once so carefree and confident.

Once they found two chairs under a canopy, Andrea applied a thick layer of sunblock to her skin, and for some reason, Miranda was relieved by that. That pale young skin was too unblemished to suffer a sunburn.

While the young woman was pulling out her book, Miranda tossed her had aside and walked down to the water. She took her time stretching, did some breathing exercises, and a few quick asana poses. It was enough to get her heart pumping, so she made a quick intention for the day and returned to the chairs.

Andrea was already buried in a book, so she reached into her own bag and retrieved one of the books she brought. Publishers were constantly sending her advance copies, and back in New York, she hardly had time to read for pleasure.

Morning turned into afternoon, and the sun was out in full force. Andrea went to get them some cold beverages, and while she was gone, Miranda removed her linen pants and top and reached for the sunblock. When the young woman returned, she gasped.

"What?" Miranda said, accepting the cold drink.

"I, uh, never expected to see so much skin," Andrea said. "It's not a bad thing! No, I mean, just unexpected. You look amazing," she added. "That one-piece is incredibly flattering on you."

Miranda smirked and rolled her eyes. She wasn't going to deny that it felt good being on the receiving end of the woman's compliments. She rarely wore swimwear, especially something as revealing as the white, high-cut, plunging neck halter she wore today. When she swam laps at the health club, she always wore a modest black athletic number. Surprisingly, she wasn't too self-conscious in this suit, except when she had to apply the sunscreen halfway down her chest. Still sensing the young woman's gaze, she smirked.

"Andrea, you're staring."

"Gosh, I'm sorry," she said, closing her eyes and turning around.

Miranda laughed. "I'm just giving you a hard time. Will you help me get my back? I don't want any tan lines—there's a benefit coming up later this month and I'm wearing the Lhuillier number with the cut-out back," she said, turning around.

The young woman's hands on her back felt surprisingly good. She used both hands, and they worked in perfect harmony with one another. Miranda let out an audible sigh when the woman's hands reached her shoulder blades. "Oh god, you could do that all day," she sighed.

Hearing such feedback, the young woman intensified the movements of her hands. She was no longer applying sunblock, but instead giving an intense shoulder massage. "I can book a massage for you tomorrow if you'd like. There's a highly rated spa here at the hotel," she said.

Miranda took a deep breath and shimmied away from the young woman's hands. "Yes, that might be nice," she said, turning around and taking the sunblock from her. "That bandeau top you have on is going to give you terrible tan lines, you know," she said. "The fabric comes too high in the corners there," she added.

"Well, maybe I'll just take it off then," she said with a chuckle.

At that comment, it was Miranda's turn to blush. "Well, yes, I suppose it is not as risqué here, however, I simply meant to imply you should add extra sunblock around that area."

The young woman laughed and turned over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows so she could read her book. Once she was settled, she casually reached behind her and unclasped her bandeau top. Miranda pretended not to notice, but she would be lying if she wasn't eager to get another glimpse at the young woman's full breasts and dark nipples.

A short while later, Miranda got up to use the restroom and get two cold pineapple-lime-coconut slushes from the juice bar. When she returned, she almost dropped the beverages. Andrea had repositioned and was sitting up on the chair, her bikini top long forgotten. "Embracing island life?" Miranda asked, handing her the fresh beverage.

"Yeah, I mean, why not?" she said with a shrug. "Unless it bothers you? Sorry—I guess I should have asked first," she said, reaching her arm across her chest.

"No," Miranda replied, reaching out for the young woman's arm. Perhaps her response was a bit too quick or too forceful, because Andrea looked into her eyes and smiled before moving her arm. The editor cleared her throat. "It doesn't bother me at all. I see models in various states of dress all day long. As they say, if you've got it, flaunt it."

Andrea nodded and took a sip from her drink. "You should join me. You know, even with sunblock, that halter top is bound to leave lines."

"Oh be serious, Andrea. I am fifty years old!"

"Stop aging yourself. You're forty-nine, unless you used a fake passport. And have you looked around? There are definitely some people here who should not be walking around topless, but that doesn't stop them. You are not one of those people, Miranda," she said.

"So, you're saying I should."

"No. All I'm saying is that you look amazing. You should not be ashamed here. But, I don't want to push you or anything."

"This conversation is over," Miranda said. She felt her heart racing and needed a minute to calm herself. Thankfully, Andrea got up to use the restroom, so she had some time to herself. Looking around, she confirmed the young woman's observations. And she knew that she was right—she did look amazing for her age. She worked hard to ensure she ate healthy and worked out, and she was proud of her body. Naturally, her breasts had started to sag a little, but nothing like some of the women who were walking around on the beach, topless or not. Her decision made, she carefully unclasped her halter top and folded her suit down around her waist. She applied some additional sunblock to the newly exposed area, and laid back against the lounge chair with her arms stretched high over her head.

"Holy fuck," she heard the young woman exclaim.

She couldn't help the smirk that ghosted her lips. "Just embracing island life," Miranda said. She'd be lying if she said the brunette's reaction didn't turn her on just a little bit, but she knew they were heading into dangerous territory and there were still five days left on the island.

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TBC ...please review &amp; let me know whether you think i should continue. thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

Andrea was curiously silent for the rest of their afternoon. While Miranda was a little surprised, she didn't really expect anything either. A few hours later, she stood and stretched and pulled her top up, fastening it behind her neck as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Andrea, I'm going to head back to the room to shower. Are you still planning to join me for dinner at six?"

"Yeah," she said, her face still glued to her book. "I'm going to finish this chapter then I'll come back," she said.

Miranda nodded and began walking back. It seemed as though something shifted and Andrea was suddenly uncomfortable around her, and that worried Miranda more than it should. She had only been trying to… What had she been trying to do? What on earth possessed her to join her twenty-something assistant in some topless sunbathing?

Did she think that would, what, create some sort of bond between them?

Miranda took a deep breath and shook her head as she opened the door to the suite. Andrea was probably uncomfortable because she was repulsed.

* * *

Later that evening, the two women enjoyed a quiet dinner at the hotel's beachfront restaurant. Donatella had sent a mass-email to everyone with details about the rehearsal dinner tomorrow and then the wedding Friday, and Miranda was grateful for the distraction. If she and Andrea were talking about this ridiculous wedding, she wouldn't have to discuss that unfortunate choice this afternoon.

After the server cleared their dessert plates, Miranda was surprised that the young woman suggested they take a walk, but didn't object. She knew the exercise would do her good after spending the entire day lounging by the beach.

Andrea led them down to the sand, where she stopped to take her shoes off. Miranda did the same, then reached down and tied the bottom of her long skirt up into a knot so it wouldn't get caught in the sand. They eventually came to a beautiful little cove, where Andrea stopped and reached into her bag to pull out a blanket, two wine glasses, and a bottle of wine.

Miranda accepted a glass of wine from the young woman, and deposited her shoes on the edge of the blanket before walking out towards the water.

Andrea was already a bit tipsy, and by the time she noticed Miranda had walked away, she set her glass down and ran after her.

"Miranda! You should—oh, hi," she said, stopping abruptly when the woman turned to face her. "Isn't this beautiful? The sea is reflecting the starlight," she said, pointing out at the water.

"Mm, yes, it is," Miranda said in agreement. She saw a shiver run through the young woman, and gently took her by the elbow and led her back towards the blanket.

"I thought we could look up at the stars from the beach," Andrea said, laying on her back on the blanket.

After a brief hesitation, Miranda joined her and found that she was more interested in watching the look of awe on the young woman's face than she was at the stars themselves.

"Look at thi—" Andrea began to say, quickly turning to her side and coming face to face with the editor. She froze and her eyes widened. Their noses touched, but neither woman turned away.

After what felt like an eternity, Miranda swallowed and turned away, closing her eyes. "We should probably head back," she said. The young woman agreed, and they walked back to the suite in silence.

Andrea used the bathroom first. Miranda turned down her bed and gently stroked the satin duvet cover. Their lips had been so close—she could still feel the young woman's breath on her skin, see the way her nipples pebbled in the breeze.

"Miranda?"

The woman shook her head and turned around. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Andrea tilted her head and frowned. "Nothing, just saying goodnight," she said.

Miranda had a strong feeling that was not what she had said, but decided not to press the issue. She bid goodnight to the young woman and reminded herself that Andrea was bold, and if she had wanted to kiss her tonight, she would have taken that opportunity to do so.

* * *

The next day, after breakfast, Miranda went off to the spa bright and early for a massage appointment, leaving the sleeping young woman a note on the coffee pot. Andrea had woke not long after to a frantic call from Emily about some mild drama at _Runway_ with the plans for the upcoming spring gala, which, even though it wasn't for several weeks, still needed to be sorted out immediately.

Armed with two cups of coffee, she setup her computer outside on the patio and got to work. Because of the time difference, she wanted to ensure the matter was settled before New York went to sleep. When her cell phone rang, she quickly answered without looking to see who it was.

"Hello?"

"Hey Andy, got a sec?" the young woman's sister asked.

Andrea quickly glanced down at the phone to confirm it was her sister. "Hey Jill, sure. What's going on?"

"Andy, have you made any progress with Mom? She's driving me insane. She's treating me like a five-year-old!"

"Uh, no, I'm in Fiji for _Runway _business, so I haven't talked to her much."

"Oh, totally forgot, sorry. But seriously, will you call Mom?"

Andrea hadn't noticed that Miranda returned, and continued her conversation. "I've already explained this. I don't know what other information I can provide."

"Come on, Andy. Please? Can't you ask Miranda Priestly for some advice or something?"

"I really don't feel comfortable doing that. She's a private person. I think she's starting to trust me."

"Whatever. Maybe I'll just go find some stranger on the street and convince him to take some photos with me and tell Mom he's my fiancé."

"That might work, you know."

"Can you get it printed in a tabloid, or your magazine, you know, just as a fake story? Oh my gosh, this would be awesome, please Andy?"

"Oh of course, I'll just call up _Page Six_ now," Andy deadpanned.

"Okay, okay, I get it. But please, will you tell Mom that I'm not single and pathetic and that I'm not a lesbian?"

"Got it. Single…pathetic…lesbian."

"Andy!"

"Oh, when's the big reveal?"

"My new book?"

"Yeah."

"Not scheduled yet. I want Mom there, but not if she's going to be a bitch to my boss."

"Okay, okay. I'll work on her. I'll lie to her till I'm blue in the face, then after the reveal, she won't even care."

"Thanks, Andy. I love you, sissy!"

"You too. Talk soon," she said, ending the phone call.

Miranda was frozen in place. Tears welled in her eyes at the realization that she had been played all along. This young woman, her assistant, befriended her and practically seduced her, all so that she could turn around and humiliate her.

She quickly ran into the bathroom and shut the door. She had hoped the young woman didn't hear her, but hearing Andrea call her name seemed to suggest otherwise.

Miranda closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath, but she suddenly felt a pain in the center of her chest.

"No, no, no," she muttered as she crawled over to her makeup bag, searching for the little blue pills. She didn't bring her entire bottle, just a few pills in a plastic zip-top bag that was always with her with she traveled. She'd been traveling with these for over ten years and hadn't needed to use them until today. When she found it, she tore it open and took one, drinking some water from the faucet using the glass on the vanity.

"Miranda, are you okay in there?" the young woman asked. Her voice was near—most likely standing right outside the door.

"I'm—I'm fine," she replied. She turned the faucet off and sank to her knees on the marble floor. The medication wasn't working yet; she could feel the pain intensifying. The young woman's knocking on the bathroom door certainly didn't help. "Stop it—I'm fine!" she shouted. "I'm fine…go away."

She curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor and clutched her knees tightly to her chest, willing the medication to start working.

"Miranda, please—let me in. I don't know what's wrong, but let me help you," Andrea said.

"I…I…you…no," Miranda said, gasping for air and struggling to find words.

Andrea tried to open the bathroom door, but it was locked from the inside. "Miranda, please," she said, "talk to me. You're scaring me, come on."

When the editor didn't unlock the bathroom door, Andrea took matters into her own hands. She took a bobby pin from her hair and used it to turn the lock. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

Miranda was curled up on the floor, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. "Leave me be," she said between breaths. "I'll be fine. Go away," she hissed. Her eyes were closed and she was trying to employ some sort of breathing technique.

The young woman stepped outside the bathroom, remembering that Miranda said she sometimes needed to be alone. She tried to think of what could bring this on all of a sudden, but she had no idea. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She'd give her a few minutes, then try again.

After some time, Miranda opened her eyes and turned onto her back. She cautiously took a deep breath—the pain in her chest was gone. She tried to sit up and it took considerable effort. Because it had been so long since she last used the medication, it seemed that she no longer had a tolerance built up. Good thing she didn't take two, she thought.

Once she picked herself up off the floor and got to her feet, she took a cleansing wipe to her face, then walked into the bedroom.

"Hi," Andrea said quietly.

"Oh!" Miranda jumped, not expecting the young woman to be standing there in her room.

"Sorry," Andrea said. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching for the woman's arm.

Miranda backed away, speaking slowly. "You're just like the rest of them. You just want to use me," she said. "You want a big reveal for the single, pathetic Miranda Priestly. Tell me, how much is _Page Six _paying for it? Am I at least worth it?"

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me. If you're planning to sell my story to the tabloids, at least tell me they're paying you enough for it."

"Oh my god! No, Miranda, I was talking to my sister. That wasn't about you—this is all a mistake!" Andrea said as soon as she realized what the woman was talking about. "Did you really think—"

Miranda watched as the young woman brought her hands up to cover her face and ran into the other room. If what the young woman was saying was accurate, then that meant Andrea was not plotting against her—she imagined it all.

She hated the effects that the medication was having on her, namely, that it was slowing her reflexes. She wanted to run after Andrea, but by the time her brain told her feet to move, she worried the young woman would already be gone.

"Andrea?" she called, looking for her in the living room. No sign of the woman, but her luggage was still there, so that was a good sign. The editor headed out towards the patio and spotted the woman, huddled on a chair. "Andrea, can we talk?" Miranda asked as she approached the young woman and sat in the opposite chair.

She sat up and wiped her eyes, nodding as she pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders.

"It seems there has been a misunderstanding."

"Understatement of the century," Andrea murmured under her breath.

Miranda sighed. "I overheard parts of your telephone call when I returned. I heard you talking about someone being a 'private person' and just beginning to trust you. I heard you talk about a big reveal, something about calling _Page Six_, and then you said 'single, pathetic, and lesbian.' Was that about me?" she asked. "Or was I just not meant to hear that?"

Andrea took a deep breath. She was visibly upset. "That's not it at all," she said. "I would have gladly had that conversation on speakerphone, because then you would have seen that it was not about you—it was never about you," she added with a sigh. "My mom is giving my sister a hard time and my sister wants me to help convince my mom that it's not the end of the world."

"And that bit about a private person who is just starting to trust you? I'm supposed to believe that's _not_ about me?"

"No," she said, frowning. "That was, but I was defending you! Jill wanted me to ask you for advice on how to deal with our mom. I didn't want you to think I was using you just so I could get advice. You know me better than that. You know I wouldn't say or do anything to hurt you, right? I could never sell you out like that." She reached over and laid her hand gently on Miranda's arm. "Especially now, after the past few days."

Miranda shrugged and shook her head. She didn't know what to believe anymore. She wanted to believe the young woman—after last night when she saw that desire in the young woman's eyes, and this afternoon with the look of disappointment on her face. "Answer me this," Miranda said. "What were you thinking when we were on that blanket under the stars last night?"

Andrea leaned back for a second, then smiled. "How incredibly beautiful you were. How your eyes were darker blue in the moonlight than day. How lucky I was to be sharing that moment with you."

Miranda swallowed and bit her lip. "The proximity meant nothing?"

"On the contrary," Andrea said. "It meant everything. I could feel your breath, practically taste you on my lips. It took every ounce of my self control to keep my hands to myself." She gently squeezed the woman's arm. "Go look at my phone. Call my sister back and talk to her yourself. I don't know what else I can say to make you realize that this is all a big misunderstanding."

Miranda nodded and gently moved the young woman's hand away. "I need a few minutes," she said, pushing herself up out of the chair. She walked over to the bedroom and sat on the bed. She wanted so desperately to believe the young woman, but her anxiety interrupted, driving her paranoia and distrust. And she would have told her about those thoughts, but that would surely be too burdensome.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, internally battling her irrational thoughts. She hated this—this feeling that she was not in touch with reality. In some ways, being physically on the other side of the earth invited that. At home, she could look around and see what was real; here, her grounding techniques did not work so well.

"Miranda?"

The woman blinked a few times and allowed her eyes to adjust to the lights in the room, and she finally focused on the young woman, who was now sitting next to her, offering a cup of hot tea.

"It's a peppermint green tea," she said.

Miranda accepted and took a sip.

"How are you?"

Miranda shook her head.

"Please trust me," she said, reaching for her hand.

"I do," Miranda said, setting the teacup down on the nightstand with a shaky hand. "I trust you, Andrea. And I am sorry for jumping to conclusions. I know that you were not plotting against me on the phone. I know these things. But it doesn't always _feel_ like I know them, if that makes sense."

"Yeah, that kind of does," she said. "So what are you feeling now?"

"Unbelievably guilty," she responded right away.

"For what?"

"For upsetting you, for accusing you, for making a scene, for ruining your vacation with these issues…you name it," she said. "And if you tell me you feel bad because I'm feeling guilty, I will just add that to the list. So, please don't."

"You really have nothing to feel guilty about," Andrea said, carefully choosing her words. "How can I help you right now?"

Miranda closed her eyes and squeezed Andrea's hand. "You are an angel right now," she whispered. "You can help by needing me to contribute something."

Andrea pondered that for a few minutes. "Okay, sorry, I had to think about it. I didn't want to make up something that wasn't true. So, since I've been sleeping on the couch—and by the way, that is completely on the hotel, not you because you generously agreed to let me share your space—my lower back has been sore. I could use a heating pad or something tonight," she said.

Miranda looked up and smiled, reaching up and cupping the young woman's cheek. "I will take care of it. Do you want some heat now? Or maybe a muscle relaxant?"

"No, later tonight is fine."

"And you're sleeping here in this bed tonight—I don't want any argument about it."

"You'll get none. Argument, that is," she added. Andrea turned and pressed a kiss to Miranda's palm as she reverently held the woman's hand.

"Would you—" Miranda paused for a moment and gently chewed on her lip. "Would you like to take a walk with me before dinner?" Miranda asked.

"That would be nice," the young woman said.

A few minutes later, Miranda found herself walking down the same beachfront path as the previous night, hand-in-hand with the brunette. When they reached the path's end, Andrea was about to venture into the sand, but Miranda tugged her back. Their eyes met and the next thing she knew, her lips were pressed firmly into the other woman's.

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TBC... hope you all are having a lovely week. please let me know if you're liking it so far &amp; if you think i should continue. xo


	6. Chapter 6

"Wow."

"Mmmm, yes," Miranda replied, licking her lips. "What are your thoughts about canceling our dinner reserv—"

"Yes."

"—vation? Oh," Miranda chuckled. "Well then. I thought maybe we'd just order something to the room?"

"I'll take care of it," Andrea said. "You head back."

"Oh, okay, um, see you?" Miranda said, letting go of the woman's hand. She would never admit it, but she was immensely grateful that the young woman offered her these few minutes alone in which to compose herself.

Back at the room, she gripped the couch cushions firmly as thoughts raced through her head. Thanks to the medication that still hadn't fully worn off, she wasn't feeling the effects of her anxiety like she usually did. Before she knew it, the door opened and the young woman entered, carrying two brown shopping bags.

"Sorry I took so long. They were just setting up the salad bar, so they gave us a bunch of containers with all different salads and fruit and veggies. And they gave us a few bottles of wine, and a bottle of sparkling water," she said, setting the bags on the table and pulling the containers out. After everything was set, she walked over to where Miranda was seated on the couch and squatted down in front of her. "Hey," she said, gently reaching for the woman's hands.

Miranda shook her head and met the young woman's eyes with a smile. "Hello there."

"I was thinking we could grab a plate, then watch a movie or something," she said.

The editor quickly nodded. Before Andrea could get up, she took her arm. "I know you're wondering—and yes, I do want to pick up where we left off, but…" The young woman tried to hide her disappointment, but it did not go unnoticed by Miranda.

"No pressure then. We'll have dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed early," the young woman said with a forced smile. She quietly stepped away and began fixing a plate at the table.

Miranda followed her and quietly poured two glasses of sparkling water. It was clear that Andrea was not happy with the way things had worked out, but Miranda didn't want to bring it up again until they were finished eating.

They took their plates into the bedroom and sat at opposite ends of the bed. Andrea turned on the TV and pulled up the guide to see the available movies.

"Ohh wait, that one," Miranda said, pointing at the screen with her fork. "_A Star is Born_. One of my favorites."

"Me too. Judy is so much better than Babs," she added, selecting the movie and pressing play.

"Agreed. I heard they were talking about a new one and trying to get Gaga to do it."

"Really?!"

"Mm-hmm," Miranda said, taking a sip of her water.

"Wow. Huh," Andrea replied.

When the older woman finished her pasta, she stood and walked to the other room, taking her plate to the sink. She checked to see if Andrea was finished before boxing up the leftovers and putting them inside the small refrigerator. She turned out one of the lights before she returned to the bedroom, joining Andrea on the bed.

The two women sat, watching the television in silence for nearly ten minutes before Miranda sat up and turned the bedside light on.

"Andrea, I know you're disappointed, and I am sorry about that—really. But you sitting there seething is not helping," Miranda said.

The young woman rolled her eyes. "I'm not _seething_," she said.

"Well, whatever it is, stop it!" Miranda was nervous, but would never admit it. As much as she wanted this—because really, she _did_ want this—she couldn't help but think about the million reasons she should not get involved with her much-younger assistant. She felt the young woman take her hand.

"Miranda, the past few days have been so incredible—seeing another side of you, getting to know you, getting closer to you," Andrea said, "I know it will be over in a few days, though, and I guess I'm just annoyed."

"Why?"

The young woman shrugged. "We're going back to New York."

Miranda shook her head. "No. Why are you annoyed?"

"Oh," Andrea chuckled. "I want to spend more time with you, holding you in my arms. You know."

Miranda's lips slowly turned upwards in a smile. "Well, I know how to fix that," she said, reaching for Andrea's other hand and pulling it closer, draping the woman's arm across her waist.

"What? Seriously? I thought you said—"

"I said that I wanted to pick up where we left off."

"Yeah, then you said 'but…'"

"And you didn't let me finish," Miranda said, kissing her playfully on the tip of her nose. "I was going to suggest changing into something more comfortable first."

"Oh? You were, were you?" Andrea asked, kissing the woman gently on the cheek, then the chin, then the neck.

"Ye-yes, I was," Miranda stammered.

"Well, would you like some help with that?" the young woman asked as she peppered kisses to her alabaster skin.

"Mmm, no. I think I'm quite—_aah,_" she gasped, arching her neck backwards. "Comfortable—I'm _comfortable_, just like this."

"Well, good," Andrea said as she pressed a kiss to the woman's chest.

"Except—I, uh, don't remember quite where we left off," Miranda said as she softly stroked Andrea's back. "Do you?"

"No clue."

"Well, it's a shame, but I think we will need to start over."

Andrea grinned. "You're cute, did you know that?"

"Oh please," Miranda said, letting a genuine laugh erupt from deep in her belly.

"You know, you—"

"Andrea? Shut up—you talk too much," the woman said as she turned the young woman onto her side and kissed her.

They laid like that next to each other, gently stroking, kissing. Heated kisses melted into whispers as they silently stared into one another's eyes. Miranda realized she hadn't felt that comfortable with another human being in decades.

Miranda reached up and stroked the young woman's cheek as her thumb gently traced over her lower lip. She felt the woman pull back and watched as she lifted her shirt over her head. Her hands immediately reached out to explore the newly revealed skin, and soon her lips followed.

As she was gently nipping the skin around the young woman's bra, Andrea's hand reached around inside the waistband of the editor's skirt. Her hand reached lower, slipping beneath what appeared to be a flimsy satin thong. When her fingers found the woman's curls, she felt Miranda freeze, and completely pull away.

Andrea laid on her back and covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

"No, I pushed—"

"Andrea, stop—"

"—and I should have asked first."

"Listen," Miranda said, reaching out and taking the young woman's wrist tightly in her grasp. "It's fine. Today's just, well, not a good day for that."

The young woman slowly pulled her hands away from her face and propped herself up on her elbow. "Um, okay?"

"It's my fault. I should have said something before," Miranda explained. "I didn't think…well, honestly, I didn't expect all this."

Andrea reached out and took her hand. "Hey, it's okay," she said reassuringly. "If you're not ready—"

"Oh, god no—it's not that!" Miranda said, quickly pulling her hand back. "This is a bit embarrassing, but I have a tampon in today, so, that's why."

Once the young woman processed this information, she pointed out that Miranda didn't usually travel with tampons.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "If you must know, I haven't had a period in a year. My doctor just started me on some hormone cream, and, well, that's why."

"Do you have cramps or anything? I could give you a back rub," Andrea said with a smile, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the woman's cheek.

"No, I'm fine, but—" she gasped and quickly sat up. "Your back! I was supposed to get you a heating pad," she said as she crawled out of bed and dug through the bathroom drawers until she found a hot water bottle. "Is it still sore?" she asked as she ran the water, waiting for it to get hot.

"I haven't thought about it—I've been thoroughly distracted by the beautiful woman who was with me," she said. "Really, you don't have to do this."

"No, please let me," Miranda said as she filled the bottle. She grabbed a small towel and wrapped the bottle before returning to the bedroom. "Why don't you lay on your stomach? Put a few pillows underneath for support," she said.

Andrea repositioned herself and the woman carefully applied the hot water bottle to her lower back. "Aah!" she gasped, arching away from the heat. "That's really hot."

"I'm sorry. Here, wrap this around yourself first," she said, handing the woman her robe off the chair.

Andrea covered her bare skin with the robe and this time, the heat was tolerable.

Miranda softly ran her fingers through her hair and stroked her back, helping the young woman to relax and eventually fall asleep. Miranda quietly used the bathroom and removed her makeup, changing into her short silk nightgown and turning out the lights before going to bed.

* * *

The next morning, Miranda woke up with her face pressed against the young woman's bare chest.

"Hi sleepy head. How are you this morning?" the brunette asked.

"Good," she said, rolling over and stretching her arms. She noticed the sun brightly shining in through the blinds. "What time is it?"

"It's almost 11," Andrea said.

"Shit!" Miranda said, jumping up and running to the bathroom. "The wedding starts in 30 minutes!" she explained from behind the bathroom door.

Andrea heard the shower turn on. "What can I do for you?"

"Get my dress out, get me some coffee. Have a car ready here in 20 minutes."

"On it," Andrea said. "I'm sorry—I didn't think the wedding was until this evening."

"It's the actual ceremony on the private beach this morning," Miranda said. "Damn it, I cannot be late to this."

"Here," Andrea said, taking the blowdryer from the woman's hand. "Sit. Do your makeup. Trust me?"

The two women exchanged glances in the mirror and Miranda quickly reached for her makeup while Andrea dried the woman's hair. When she finished, Miranda had to admit that it looked good—a little different than she normally styled it, but then again, they were on an island and it was a special occasion. She quickly slipped into her dress while Andrea packed her clutch with essentials—lipstick, credit card, cell phone, and room key.

"Your ride is out front—should be a golf cart thing," she explained. "I'm going to make a quick call to delay things. See you later!"

Miranda left and Andrea dialed the Sheraton, claiming to have just seen a shark in the water just off the private beach. A few minutes later, she saw a text message from Miranda: _A shark? Really?_

Andrea chuckled and wrote back: _You're welcome. Wish I was there with you! _As soon as she clicked "send" she regretted it. The last thing she wanted to do was make Miranda feel guilty about anything.

She saw Miranda was typing a response, so she knew she needed to type fast.

_Sorry, didn't mean to say that. I enjoyed spending time last night &amp; this morning. Have a good time and see you later. xo_

After clicking "send," she waited, but there was no response. Whatever Miranda was going to say, she must have changed her mind. Andrea sighed and tried to ignore the disappointment she was feeling. Instead, she changed into shorts and a tank, put on her baseball hat, and went out for a quick hike. She left a note on the counter in case Miranda returned first.

As it turned out, the reported shark sighting didn't have a significant delay on the wedding. The bride was still getting ready, and Miranda was grateful she was able to slip into a seat before the bride came down the makeshift aisle.

There were only about twenty people there—mostly those that she had brunch with the previous day. She thought about Andrea's text message as they waited for the ceremony to start. Everyone else was there with someone else—a significant other or family member. It's not like there would be any harm in Miranda bringing her. And surely there wouldn't be any photos. It might be nice to have someone to talk to, she thought. As she started to write to Andrea to ask her to join, she received the young woman's message. Slowly deleting what she was about to send, she turned her phone off and tossed it in her purse.

After the ceremony, there was a champagne toast, and everyone was leaving to go back to their rooms to take a nap, of all things. Miranda congratulated Allegra and her husband, then gave Donatella a quick air kiss before leaving.

Back at the room, she was surprised that Andrea wasn't there. Their things were straightened up and the bed had been made since this morning. She was going to text the woman but instead decided to call her.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Andrea answered.

"Yes. I just got back to the room. Where are you?"

"Oh, I went for a hike. I left a note on the table," she said.

Miranda looked around and there was no note on the table or counter or floor. "It's not here. Maybe the maid threw it away by mistake," she said. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"I don't know. I found a beautiful spot here in a clearing and it's just so tranquil. Hey, why don't you come join me?"

"Oh, really, Andrea. I'm all dressed up."

"You'll probably shower before the reception tonight anyway. Just come on. I'm just up the first path to the left of our sidewalk. I'll keep an eye out for you."

"No, no—I'm not—just enjoy your afternoon and I'll talk to you later," she said, hanging up the phone. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly and made her way to the edge of the bed, lowering herself slowly. It was just barely afternoon, and she was already exhausted. Maybe the Italians had the right idea with the scheduled nap. There was no way she could imagine lasting through the reception otherwise.

Just as she was beginning to fall asleep, the room phone rang. Fearing it was something urgent with work back in New York, she answered, using her arm to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in.

"Hello?"

"_Ciao cara_," the woman said. "You left so fast—and then the other day at brunch. Are you alright? Are you not having a good time?"

Miranda sighed and suddenly realized that Andrea was curled up along her side, her arm draped across her waist. "No, no. I am fine. The ceremony today was beautiful. Allegra was such a stunning bride," Miranda said as she gently intertwined her fingers with the young woman's.

"Ah, yes. But something else is bothering you. What is it, _mia cara amica_?"

"Actually, would you mind terribly if I brought a guest tonight?" she asked, squeezing Andrea's hand.

"_Innamorato_? Miranda, you did not tell me you had taken a lover! Yes, yes, of course you can bring him. Do I know him?"

"No, I don't think you know _her_," the editor replied.

"Her? _Che bello!_ Miranda, you must bring her. I need to meet this woman."

"Are you certain it wouldn't be an imposition? I know it's Allegra's wedding and all," Miranda said.

"Ah, yes, but I am paying for it, and your lover will have a seat. S'cusa me, I have to go, but I will see you tonight, no? Ciao!"

Miranda reached down and ran her fingers through the young woman's hair. "You don't have to come with me tonight if you don't want to," she said quietly.

"Look at me," the young woman said, sitting up to meet the editor's eyes. "Do you want me there?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure," she said. "Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of having you by my side, but…it all just makes me nervous."

The young woman pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I understand. And for what it's worth, I would like nothing more than to be by your side…but not if it will make things worse." She laid her head on the woman's chest and hugged her tightly.

"I am actually worried that it wouldn't be fair to you if I brought you. I don't want to bring you, then be forced to ignore you all night. What if Irv shows up? Could you imagine!"

"I get it," she said. "What if I just came as your assistant, though? I mean, it's technically true. And then if it's safe, we can relax."

Miranda extricated herself from the woman's arms and crawled to the edge of the bed, sitting up with her feet on the floor. "What does that even mean, Andrea? Listen to yourself. It's ludicrous. I'm not going to go around kissing you in public or anything idiotic! I should never have even mentioned it to Donatella."

"I'm not asking you to kiss me in public. Miranda, I get it—really, I do. I'm simply saying that if I attend as your assistant, I can help make it a more enjoyable event for you. I can create distractions when necessary and just give you overall reassurance," the young woman explained.

"The only thing you'll assure me of is that I am caught sleeping with my assistant!"

"Miranda, I don't want other people to know about this any more than you do. The last thing I need is my family and friends seeing some headline about me from the other side of the globe. Do you know how difficult it will be to get a job if I'm known as your mistress?"

"Oh, please. Women don't have mistresses—they have lovers."

Andrea shook her head. "I thought we were getting to be friends, Miranda. I thought things were good. We were taking it slowly… I thought that I mattered to you."

At that, Miranda looked up but the young woman was already gone. "Wait!" she called rushing out the door after her. "You do matter. Please, don't go."

Andrea stopped on the sidewalk in front of the door. "Tell me why I should stay," she said, not bothering to turn around.

"Because I care about you. You matter to me, and I don't want you to go—not like this," she said, walking up to the woman and taking her hand. "I am not thinking clearly, and I'm incredibly nervous about who-knows-what. Please don't leave me," she said, reaching up to stroke the young woman's cheek.

"Okay," Andrea said quietly. "I'll stay—because I care about you, too. More than I know what to do with right now."

Miranda leaned forward and kissed the young woman squarely on the lips. Just as Andrea wrapped her arms around the woman's waist, tugging her closer, they heard the telltale click of a camera, and Miranda froze.

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TBC... please let me know if you think this is worth continuing. i'm kind of stuck right now, which is why it's been a month since the last post. xo


	7. Chapter 7

"No, no, no, no," Miranda said as she backed away and headed back inside, her hands covering her face. She ran into the bathroom locked the door, forcing herself to take a deep breath. "This is not happening," she whispered.

Meanwhile, Andrea ran up the trail in the direction of the sound and came across a couple, holding a camera and taking a picture of themselves.

"Excuse me?" Andrea said. "Hi—would you like me to take that for you?" she asked.

"Oh yes, can you please?" the woman said. Her partner handed over his camera, a fancy digital camera, and the young woman quickly took a photo of the couple.

"Here," she said, scrolling to the camera roll and showing it to the couple for their approval. "Actually, did you happen to get a picture of me earlier? Maybe in the background or something?"

The guy shrugged and flipped through the last few photos.

"Wait—that one," she said. Miranda's face wasn't visible in the photo, but it wouldn't take much to figure out who it was. "Would you mind deleting it permanently?" Andrea asked sweetly.

The woman leaned over, looking at the photo. "Oh, this one? Sure. It was one of our failed attempts to take a selfie," she said, elbowing her husband.

He clicked delete, then went to the virtual trash and permanently deleted the file from the camera. "All gone," he said, showing Andrea.

"Thank you so much," Andrea said. "Really, I appreciate it. Hope you enjoy the rest of your trip—maybe I'll see you again around here," she added, quickly jogging back down to their suite. The door was still wide open, and Andrea could hear whimpering coming from the bathroom. "Miranda?"

"I can't—I can't do it," she said.

"Miranda, I'm coming in, okay?" Andrea carefully opened the door and saw the woman huddled on the tile floor.

"I can't do this. I need to get back to New York. This is too much," she whispered.

Andrea dropped to her knees and gently wrapped her arm around the woman's shoulders. "Deep breaths," she said. "It wasn't the paparazzi—it was just a tourist. We were in the background of the photo, and I watched them permanently delete it. All you could really see was the back of my head and your hair, but it doesn't matter. It's gone."

Miranda sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "It could happen again. I need to get back. This trip was a bad idea," she said.

"Okay—I'll make the arrangements for you. Just, come sit with me for a while…please?"

Miranda looked up and nodded, letting the young woman help her up. She sat on the bed, then laid back against the pillows.

"Can I bring you a glass of water or something?" the younger woman asked.

"No, I—" she paused and pressed her palm to the center of her chest. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, turning to her side and bringing her knees to her chest. "Get Emily Getz on the phone," she said as she took another deep breath.

"Okay," she said, quickly flipping through the contacts on her phone. "Wait—your therapist in New York? It's almost midnight there."

"Call her."

Andrea quickly dialed the number, and when the call went to voicemail, she left a message, asking Emily to return the call immediately. "Miranda, she wasn't answering. What can I do to help you?"

The woman shook her head.

"Please. I care about you."

"There's a recording on my phone," Miranda said between breaths. "Get my headphones."

Andrea quickly found Miranda's phone and plugged in the earbuds. Just looking at the woman, she was in no state to scroll through her phone, so Andrea went to the voice memos. There was only one, so she pulled it up and put the earbud into Miranda's ear.

"Do you want me to leave and go sit in the other room?" Andrea asked.

Miranda shook her head and reached out for her hand, squeezing it tightly.

Despite the earbuds, Andrea was still able to hear most of the recording. It sounded like affirmations, but she couldn't be certain. She tried to be supportive, holding her hand and gently rubbing circles on the woman's back.

When the recording ended Miranda took out the earbud and pushed herself to a seated position. "Again, I am sorry you had to see this."

Andrea shook her head and repositioned herself so she was laying next to the woman on the bed. "Please don't apologize. I want to help you," she said.

"I don't want to need you, though. You don't understand," Miranda said.

"I think I do," Andrea said.

Miranda scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"I know that you don't have to deal with it like this—at least not as often—when you're in New York. I manage your schedule. I know where you are nearly every hour of the day. I would be aware of these things. So, I think that being away, basically on vacation, has sort of made things worse for you," Andrea said.

"Oh, well if Andrea Sachs thinks that's what's wrong, then so be it," Miranda hissed.

"Miranda, please. I am just trying to understand."

"You want to _understand_? Why don't you google 'high-functioning anxiety' then? You'll see. It will explain everything from the perfectionism to the needing to stay busy. Then you'll know all about me. Happy now?"

"No, of course not. That's not what I wanted," she said, sitting up on the bed and looking out the window, away from the woman. "I'm not your therapist, and I'm not trying to be. I'm just trying to figure out how I can support you. That's it," she sighed. "I'm going to take a shower. If you want, we can talk when I'm finished…or not. Miranda, I—I really like you, and I hope that you know I mean you no harm."

Miranda watched the young woman walk into the bathroom in silence. It had been years since she had so openly talked about her anxiety—everything about this trip seemed to leave her feeling unsettled. But she did trust the young woman, and she knew the woman wouldn't use it against her. Looking at the clock, she saw there was a little under an hour until the wedding reception, and she decided to take this opportunity to clear things up.

When she heard the shower stop, she waited a few seconds, then softly knocked on the bathroom door. "Andrea?"

The young woman opened the door clutching a towel loosely around her body. "Did you need something from in here?" she asked.

"Yes," Miranda said, "you." She stepped forward and kissed the young woman squarely on the lips. "Come with me tonight?" she asked.

"Yes," the young woman said, nodding her head.

"Okay, I'll let you finish getting ready. Thank you," she said quietly.

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TBC... just a tiny update. still trying to figure out how this will end, but i promise i will finish it soon. happy new year!


	8. Chapter 8

The two women didn't talk much on their way to the reception, but Andrea sensed that Miranda was still feeling on edge after everything. Since they were venturing out to an area where there would be photographers, Andrea was careful to keep her hands to herself, switching back into assistant mode. The last thing she wanted was to cause another fight.

They didn't see Donatella until some time later in the night, by which point she was far from sober. Miranda gestured for Andrea to stay at the table, and she quickly got up and went to the designer, hugging her and exchanging air kisses.

"Where is this lover of yours, Mir?"

Miranda gripped her forearm tightly. "She is over there in the Siriano dress, but leave her be. She is not my 'lover'—not yet anyway. All this has been very new and more than a little stressful for both of us," she said. "Please. If it—whatever 'it' is—works out, you will be the first to know."

"Ah, and I will probably be the first to know if it doesn't, too," she said, eyeing the young brunette over Miranda's shoulder. "I would love to dress her for you. Send her to my studio in New York next month when I'm in."

"We'll see," Miranda said. "She would look incredible in that bubblegum pink gown."

"Or a black military jacket."

"No—no military jackets," Miranda said.

"Well, then maybe the asymmetrical jacket with a mini and the red velvet boots," she said.

Miranda hummed in approval, and Donatella rolled her eyes.

"I can see how you feel for her. Do me a favor? Treat her right—as an equal, a partner."

"I will," Miranda said, letting her go and heading back to the table, where Andrea was firing off emails on her phone.

"What are you doing?" Miranda said, sitting next to the woman at the table.

"Oh, uh, Emily had emailed me about a few things. Don't worry, I didn't send pictures or even tell her I was here," Andrea said, looking down at her hands in her lap.

Miranda reached out for her hand. "Look at me." The young woman looked up and met her eyes. "I need to apologize to you—" she held her hand up to stop the woman's protests. "Not for my…_issues, _but for how I've treated you and your altruism. You deserve to be treated better than that."

"Thank you," the young woman said, softly sighing in relief. "I appreciate it. How was Donatella?"

"Oh, she is who she is. I asked her to give us some space. You shouldn't have to answer her questions or deal with-" she said, flinging her hand in the other direction.

The young woman nodded and turned her attention to the dance floor. "Do you dance?" she asked.

"What? Dance? Out there?!" the editor replied.

Andrea smiled and laughed quietly. "Yeah, I was just curious. I mean, I figured you don't dance at weddings, but I don't know…I just want to know you better," she said.

"And what makes you think I don't dance at weddings?" Miranda asked. She felt a challenge in Andrea's words, and the thought of tackling a challenge head-on was exactly what she needed right now.

"Oh, I don't know, I just…you're so…_refined_?" the young woman was stammering.

"Or no one ever asks me," Miranda said, rolling her eyes.

Andrea set down her drink and stood from the table, smoothing out her dress. "Miranda," she said, holding out her hand "may I have this dance?"

The silver-haired woman smiled from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling in the evening light. "You certainly may," she said, accepting the outstretched hand and standing up.

Andrea led her out to the dance floor, which was setup over the sand on the beach. As they reached the dance floor, the next song came on.

"Oh god," Miranda said, pausing. "Are you serious?"

"What? I thought you liked Beyonce," Andrea said with a smirk.

"Andrea, this is not 'Bootylicious'—it's an old Stevie Nicks song. Stevie appears in Beyonce's video, I believe."

"Oh, well, do you still want to dance? Or do you not like this one?" Andrea asked.

"It's fine," Miranda said, walking out to the dance floor with her.

Unsurprisingly, Miranda was a fantastic dancer. Andrea chuckled to herself.

"What's so funny?" the woman asked.

"Nothing, it's just that you're an incredible dancer and I have no idea why I thought otherwise, even for a second."

Miranda grinned and spun around, throwing her arms up over her head.

"You're so light on your feet, and the way your body moves is just so—" the young woman's eyes locked on the editor's lips.

"Careful," the she said, gently stroking her arm. "Not here," she warned.

The music again changed, and James Taylor's "How Sweet It Is" began playing. Andrea started heading back to the table, but Miranda reached for her hand and spun her around, softly resting her other hand on the young woman's back.

"Are you sure? This is okay?" Andrea asked.

"At the risk of sounding like a daily motivation, I think some things are worth the risk," she said. "You can dance, can't you?"

The young woman rolled her eyes and laughed. "Yes, sorry. I was just in shock, I guess," she said, letting the editor spin her around and pull her back in.

They danced around the floor a bit more, quietly exchanging words, and when the song ended, neither of them wanted to go back to the table, so they silently agreed to stay for one more song.

"Is this Norah Jones?" Miranda asked. "I've never heard this one."

"Yeah," Andrea said. "It's called 'Turn Me On,'" she added with a smile.

"Mmm, how appropriate."

After a bit more dancing, the two women took a detour to the bar for a drink of water. "That was a lot of fun," Andrea said.

"It really was," she agreed. "I should go find Donatella and Allegra and have the photographer get a few shots of us before I forget. But when I return, it's up to you whether you'd like to stay and dance and mingle, or we could leave and find other ways to entertain ourselves," she added.

"Sounds like an excellent plan," Andrea said. "Wait—"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to touch-up your makeup first?"

"Yes, why?"

The younger woman leaned in as if she was going to whisper something into her ear, but instead pressed several soft kisses along her jawline. The editor's breath hitched when her tongue gently flicked against the skin behind her ear.

"Okay, okay," she said, shuddering as she stepped away. "I will be back soon, and then I am all yours," she added.

Once Miranda touched up her makeup in the ladies' room, she posed for some photos with Donatella and her daughter—enough so that she would be able to officially classify this trip as a business expense. Both Versace women were sufficiently inebriated after a long day, so Miranda wished Allegra love and happiness in her marriage, and invited her to dinner the next time she was in New York.

After saying goodbye, she practically ran back to the bar to find Andrea.

"Psst," the young woman said, leaning against the side of the building and clutching a bottle of wine and two plastic cups in her hands. "Come with me," she said.

Miranda followed without saying a word, slipping off her shoes and following the younger woman through the sand around the corner to a private cove where there were a few blankets and some candles laying in the sand.

"I figured this gives us the best of both worlds—we can still spend time with each other and listen to the music, but with a little more privacy. And I thought maybe we could even rejoin the party when things are wrapping up, so you could say goodbye to Donatella or anyone."

"This is perfect," Miranda said, stepping forward and kissing the young woman fiercely on the lips.

She gently pushed Miranda back and licked her lips. "That kind of hurt," she said. There was a metallic taste in her mouth, and when she brought her finger to her upper lip, she realized she was bleeding.

"Oh Andrea, I am so sorry," Miranda said. She dropped to her knees on the blanket and put her head in her hands. "I'm just not good at this. Not at all."

Andrea joined her on the blanket and reached out to tug the woman's hands away from her face. "Look, I'm okay. In fact, I kinda liked that," she said.

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said it hurt."

"I did say that, and it did hurt, but in a good way. An I-want-to-do-that-again-because-it-was-so-good way," she said, pushing Miranda onto her back.

* * *

Some time later, Miranda noticed the music had stopped playing and the lights at the bar were shining bright. "Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"I think that's our cue to leave," she said, pointing at the bar. "They're packing up."

Andrea whined, but reluctantly got up. She helped Miranda to her feet, and they cleaned up their area quickly before returning to the main beach where the wedding was.

"Ah! There you are," Donatella said, causing both women to jump. "I saw you sneak out, and I wasn't sure if you'd be back. Andrea, is it?" she asked.

"Yes, hello. It was such a lovely party," she said.

Miranda took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around Andrea from behind, gently kissing her cheek. "Andrea Sachs here is a brilliant young writer. You'll see big things from her someday," she said.

"Miranda, it's beautiful to see you happy—I trust this stunning woman has something to do with that, no?"

Andrea had the good nature to blush and accept the compliment. She wrapped her arms around the woman's and softly rested her head on her shoulder.

"She is stunning, isn't she?" Miranda said, turning her head and kissing Andrea softly on the cheek.

"Miranda!" the young woman squealed, pulling away from her arms and nervously looking around at all the people still on the beach.

"What?" the editor asked, shrugging her shoulders and grinning.

Donatella whispered something into Miranda's ear and kissed her cheek, giving Andrea one final smile before walking away.

"Do you want to head back?" Andrea asked. "There will probably be some photographers lingering, so I'll just let you lead the way."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Fine."

They walked back to the suite in silence, but as soon as the door was shut, Miranda reached for the young woman's hand and kissed it gently. "I have something to ask you, but I want you to hear me out before you respond," she said, leading Andrea to the couch.

The young woman nodded and clasped her hand tightly.

"Will you still be able to work for me after all this, or has it affected our working relationship?" she said. Although she didn't make a habit of explaining herself, she felt Andrea deserved more. "I have really enjoyed spending time with you here, and I don't know how you feel about it, but I think I would like to continue to see you once we return to New York—discreetly, of course. I would hate for you to have to find a new job after all of this," she said.

Andrea sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. I would also like continue to see you, but I'm not sure if I could keep it a secret at work," she replied. "I'm sorry—I'm just being honest."

"I know," Miranda said, squeezing her hand and leaning back against the couch, "and I appreciate that."

Andrea curled up alongside the editor, resting her head on her shoulder. "So, what would that look like?" she asked.

Miranda's fingers found their way into the young woman's hair. "Well, you'd greet me with a smile in the morning, and whenever you brought me coffee. I'd finally give Emily that promotion, and you, being the new first, could hire a second assistant to send on errands all over the city. How's that for a start?"

"And every now and then you'd roll your eyes at me or give me that look you do when I'm wearing Doc Martens," Andrea said, smiling. "You'd call me into your office and ask for the impossible, and I'd act like it was such a god damn burden to do all the things you ask, but I'd happily do it because it's my job…and because I'll know you will make it up to me later in the back room."

"Not the back room—the car, maybe? Or my house. You'd leave the office at a decent time most days, and your new second would wait for the book. We'd leave separately, of course, but you'd bring the dry cleaning and then stay," Miranda said.

"We could have dinner together occasionally, or I could even bring my laptop and get some work done while you're reviewing the book," Andrea offered.

"I could think of other ways we could spend our time," the woman said.

Andrea turned and kissed her eagerly, and she laid back, pulling the woman on top of her. "Is this okay?" she asked, pressing her lips to the woman's neck. Her tongue darted out and brushed against the woman's skin, causing her to let out a groan.

"We could even do this in the car," Miranda said, gently pushing her dress off her shoulders, exposing that creamy porcelain skin that was now pink and splotchy with her growing arousal.

Andrea softly cupped the woman's breasts, delighting in the way the soft globes felt in her hands. "You're beautiful," she whispered, pressing kisses all over her chest as her thumbs brushed over her nipples.

"Ohhhh god," she moaned, arching her back. "That—keep doing it," she panted.

"This?" Andrea said, gently rolling her nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

"Ahhhh! Yes," she exhaled. "Harder."

Andrea turned her attention to the darkened peaks, pinching and squeezing and tugging while the woman writhed on the couch beneath her. She leaned over and pressed her lips to the woman's throat.

"Ohhhhh," she groaned. "Don't stop…please," she begged.

Andrea trailed her lips down the woman's neck, tracing her tongue delicately around the hardened nub.

"Ohhhh…I need…teeth. Use your...teeth," she gasped.

Andrea opened her mouth and took the woman's nipple into her mouth, slowly sucking and licking. She gently scraped her teeth along the pebbled skin, sending Miranda into a frenzy.

"Please!" the woman gasped.

Andrea pressed a kiss to her skin, then bit down, keeping her eyes on the woman's facial expression to ensure she wasn't hurting her.

The woman's eyes fluttered closed as she gasped and chortled, her orgasm coursing through her entire body in waves. Andrea released the breast and gently massaged it, moving her hands upwards to the woman's face. She brushed her cheeks softly until her eyes opened, and then she kissed her softly.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, pressing her lips to her cheek and curling up alongside her.

Miranda tried to slow her breathing to a normal pace. "That was…intense…incredible," she said. "I don't think I can move just yet."

"Still think we can do this in the car?" she said with a smirk.

"Oh my god," Miranda groaned, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "Poor Roy would be a mess."

Andrea giggled at the thought of him trying to drive while Miranda was moaning. "Yeah, maybe not a middle-of-the-day activity, but certainly one for the weekends, no?"

Miranda nodded and brought her hand up to cup the woman's cheek. "But _this_ could be a middle-of-the-day activity," she said, gently kissing her and hugging her tightly. "You know, Roy drives me through the park a few times a week. It's never planned—it ebbs and flows—but it's almost always enough to help me relax without needing medication."

Andrea hugged her tighter and pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

"Maybe I won't need to make those trips by myself anymore," she said, looking at Andrea with hopeful eyes.

"Miranda, you know I will go with you. I would have gone with you before if I'd known. You are not alone," she said, laying her head on the woman's chest.

The older woman nodded and closed her eyes, and they laid there like that for quite some time. After a while, Miranda took a deep breath as pain seared through her chest. She pushed herself up and took several gaping breaths.

"Are you okay?"

Miranda shook her head as she tried to find a position that would relieve the enormous pressure in her chest.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Talk," the woman gasped.

"Okay. You're going to be okay. I'm here—you're not alone. You are safe," she said. "It's going to be okay," she repeated.

Miranda's grip on her hand tightened.

"And you know what? When we get back to New York, you are going to be so busy! You have back-to-back meetings, and you're going to need to find time to fix the pages Nigel edited—it's going to be a mess, but I know you can fix it," she said, kissing her shoulder. "They need you back in New York, and you'll be there soon. It's going to be okay," she said, trying to think about what else might help the woman to hear. "You're not a burden, okay? I'm here, and I literally have nothing else to do right now. You're not putting me out. Plus, I like sitting here holding your hand," she added. "Thank you for allowing me to sit here with you."

Miranda smiled at that. When her breathing seemed to calm down, Andrea helped her out of her dress and into a robe. After taking a sip of water, she laid down on the bed and began to cry.

"Hey," she said, "please don't feel guilty. You have nothing to feel guilty about, okay?"

"I owe you—"

"For what?"

"This. Before. I owe you, but I can't—" she gasped.

"Miranda, you owe me nothing. We determined last year that we care about each other, right? Caring for someone isn't a quid pro quo. I might have a really bad day next week and need you to drop everything for me—or I might not. I know it's hard to manage because it's not something you can pencil in for Thursday at 4—I _know_ that. I care about you without expecting anything in return, except maybe a thank-you every now and then," she said, brushing the woman's cheek.

Miranda wiped the tears away and continued to stare up at the ceiling. "You—" she paused to wave her hand towards her breast, "—me, and I didn't return the favor."

"No, but the visual you gave me in return was enough to satisfy my fantasies for a long time. You stimulated my senses—sight, sound, taste, feel. Right now I feel like I am covered in your scent, and I wouldn't have it any other way. You have nothing to feel guilty about—you owe me nothing," she said. "I know that's a foreign concept, but please trust me."

Miranda brought her hand up over her eyes and shook her head.

"Think about this—if I fell and twisted my ankle, what would you do? You'd probably help me up, get some ice and maybe a Tylenol, and you'd probably even go get help if it was a really bad injury, right?"

Miranda nodded.

"Okay, so after you do that, what do you expect from me? Do you expect that I will pay you back once I'm healed at an hourly rate for your services? Or do you expect that I will want to do the exact same for you, maybe push you down so you twist your ankle so I can get you ice and Tylenol?" she asked.

"No. Of course I wouldn't," she sighed. "Why does it make so much more sense when you say it?"

"Because I'm the 'smart, fat girl,'" she replied.

"Darling, you are not fat—you're deliciously proportioned. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I am so sorry—"

"Stop," Andrea said, pressing her index finger to Miranda's lips. "I didn't take you seriously. You were upset after I walked in on you arguing with your boyfriend. You were feeling vulnerable, and you lashed out. I get it. You don't need to apologize."

Miranda kissed her finger, then turned onto her side to face the young woman. "Would you mind if we went to sleep? I am exhausted."

Andrea glanced at the clock and saw that it was just past three o'clock in the morning. "I wouldn't mind at all," she said, getting up to change out of her dress and brush her teeth. "Wait—_deliciously proportioned_?" she asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Miranda hummed. Her eyes were closed and she was already drifting off to sleep. "Hurry and change, darling," she added, patting the bed next to her.

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TBC... hope you enjoyed the longer chapter! reviews make me write more quickly (hint) (hint)


	9. Chapter 9

The following morning, they enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in bed and some time on the beach before packing their bags and heading back to the airport.

Miranda was nervous about the flight home, but she couldn't pinpoint why exactly. Two days prior, she had called the airlines and cancelled Andrea's coach seat for both legs of the trip, switching her to the adjoining seat in business class. It would be an extremely long flight, and she just hoped that she could get back to New York without another anxiety attack.

When their driver pulled up to the airport, Andrea flagged an attendant to take their bags to check-in. There were an insane amount of photographers at the airport—likely because of the Versace wedding—so Andrea fell in step behind Miranda. The entire time, the editor kept her sunglasses and wrap on.

When they finally reached security, she was relieved to see it was an area that only ticketed passengers could enter. Still, they were both careful as they went through Pre-Check and made their way to the Business Class lounge near the gate.

Once there, Miranda reached for Andrea's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

Andrea nodded and led them to a few seats in a semi-private corner. "I'm going to get some coffee and a few snacks. What can I bring you?" she asked the editor.

"Surprise me," Miranda said, taking her sunglasses off.

Andrea returned with some fresh cut fruit, as well as some gummy worms and mini chocolates, as well as two hot teas. Miranda rolled her eyes and took the fruit, leaving the young woman with the sugary concoctions.

After a few bites of cantaloupe, pineapple and kiwi, Miranda set the fruit cup down and reached for the tea. Her hand was shaking, and she hoped the warm liquid would help soothe her nerves. It had the opposite effect, however, when the shaking caused hot tea to splash out of the cup and directly onto her hand.

Andrea quickly took the cup and set it aside, taking both of Miranda's hands in her own, gently squeezing and turning it over to check the skin where the hot water landed. "Are you burned?"

Miranda swallowed and shook her head. She closed her eyes and squeezed the young woman's hands tightly, over and over, gently exhaling through her lips.

"You're going to be okay," Andrea said quietly. "I'm right here. There's no one else around. We're going back to New York, and I'll be right here with you. Do you need to lay down?"

The woman shook her head.

"Look at me," she said. "Our flight is on schedule and will begin boarding soon. We depart at 9:40 PM tonight. In about eleven hours, we'll land in LA. We have a two-hour layover, and we have reservations at III Forks, so you can have a steak salad or a drink, or just sit and relax. Then, we'll get back on a plane and in another five-and-a-half hours, we will arrive at JFK."

"Thank you," she said, nodding. "What day will we return? Today is Saturday, right?"

Andrea nodded. "It will be a few minutes before 11:00 PM on Saturday night when we land in New York," Andrea said. "So, we get a whole extra day if you want to think of it that way. We fly for 18 hours, but in local time, we land about an hour after we take off."

"And I'll have tomorrow to rest before heading back to work Monday," she said, nodding in approval.

"I tentatively booked time for you at the spa tomorrow afternoon," Andrea added. "I had them block off three hours for whatever services you need or want. You don't have to go, but if you'd like to, at least you can be sure they have time for you."

"Remind me to give you a raise," Miranda chuckled. "That sounds divine right now."

Andrea smiled. She looked up at the clock and saw that boarding would likely begin for Business class in the next fifteen or twenty minutes. A quick glance around the lounge area indicated that the only others here were men, so she had an idea. "Come with me for a minute," she said.

"What?"

"Just grab your bag, and come with me. It'll be worth it, I promise," she added.

Miranda sighed and stood, carrying her tote and following the young woman into the ladies' room.

Andrea quickly checked to ensure it was empty, then locked the door. She took Miranda's hand and led her to the sofa, where they both sat. "Turn around," Andrea said, indicating for Miranda to face the wall. She placed her hands on the woman's shoulders and gently began to knead.

"Ohhhh. Andrea this feels so good," she sighed. She could feel her muscles relaxing under the woman's fingertips. Her hands began at the shoulder, but proceeded all the way down her arms and back up, up her neck to the base of her spine, and down her lower back.

The young woman finally stopped and gently put her hand on Miranda's knee. "It's almost time for us to board," she said quietly. "We probably won't have any real privacy on the flight, and we definitely won't have privacy at LAX, so I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed this work-trip-slash-vacation with you."

Miranda turned around and cupped the younger woman's cheek. "This is the closest thing to a vacation I've taken since joining _Runway_, and thanks to you, I had a most enjoyable and memorable time," she said, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. "Why don't you run ahead. I need to use the toilet quickly before we depart," she said.

Andrea nodded, unlocking the door before she left.

Once alone, Miranda carefully made her way to the toilet and threw up, emptying the contents of her stomach. Her nerves had calmed considerably after the young woman's gentle massage, so she imagined that the fruit she ate was the culprit. She splashed some cool water on her cheeks, washed her hands, and walked out, stopping in her tracks when she almost ran into Andrea.

"Are you okay?"

Miranda rolled her eyes and walked past her. "Obviously. I didn't know I hired you to listen to me use the toilet," she spat, marching towards the boarding area.

"Can I get you something from the drugstore before we take off?"

"No," she said, handing her boarding pass to the flight attendant and walking onto the plane.

"Ughhhh," Andrea sighed. "This is going to be a long flight!"

"It will be ten hours and fifty-four minutes," the flight attendant said, taking the young woman's boarding pass.

Andrea rolled her eyes and followed the editor onto the plane. Thankfully, Business class was nearly empty. There was no one in the row behind them or across from them, and even the two rows in front of them were empty. Once Andrea got her book, sweater, and headphones out of the bag, she tucked it under the seat and went to retrieve a few bottles of water from the flight attendant, and some saltine crackers.

When she returned, Miranda had the privacy divider piece of plastic extended, so Andrea quietly set the water on the small table between them and tucked the crackers between the bottles. She got comfortable in her seat, then sent Miranda a text message, because she hated not talking to her like this.

Miranda's phone buzzed with an incoming message and she pulled on her glasses to read it: _Miranda, there's water and crackers if you want. I'm sorry that I wasn't exactly respecting your privacy before—I was waiting for you and didn't expect to hear anything, but then I was worried. I care about you. It's a long flight and want to make sure you're okay—and that __we__ are okay. Love, A._

Miranda quickly typed out a response: _Thank you. I shouldn't have overreacted. I am not feeling well, but I think I just need some time alone to rest. Please don't look into it. I'll talk to you in a few hours. xx, M. _

After receiving the message, Andrea released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Maybe some quiet time to herself wasn't a bad idea after all.

* * *

Andrea woke when Miranda quite literally fell into her lap.

"Shit!"

"Miranda?"

"Go back to sleep," she whispered, climbing over Andrea's legs and heading for the lavatory.

When she returned, Andrea was awake. It felt good to stand for a while, so she stood in the aisle and stretched for a few minutes.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Miranda said. "I didn't see your shoes down there, and lost my balance."

"It's okay, it just startled me," she said with a smile. "We should almost be to Los Angeles by now, no?"

"Three hours to go," Miranda said, rolling her eyes.

"Were you at least able to get some sleep?"

"Rest, yes; sleep, no. However, I am feeling better after laying still with my eyes closed for eight hours," she said. "Did you rest?"

"Yeah, I read my book for a while, then fell asleep."

"Until I woke you," Miranda said with a frown.

Andrea stood and met the woman in the hallway. "What a wonderful way to wake up," she whispered into her ear, leaving her standing there as she went to use the lavatory.

Miranda grinned climbed back into her seat by the window.

Andrea returned with two drinks in her hand and set them in the cupholders between the seats.

"Cranberry juice?"

"And vodka. Vodka-cran, as they say. Cheers," she said, holding her glass up.

Miranda raised her glass and drank the deliciously tart beverage. "Andrea," she said, craning her neck and looking around the wingback divider between their seats. "These seats are certainly not conducive to conversation," she said.

"No," Andrea laughed, siting on the edge of her seat just so she could see the woman next to her.

"Pull that curtain and come sit with me. Everyone else is asleep anyway."

Andrea smiled and pulled the small curtain, giving them privacy from anyone walking the aisle. "There's hardly enough room here," she said, just as Miranda tugged her hand, causing her to fall into her lap.

"Nonsense, darling," she said as she wrapped her arms around her waist. "I really am sorry for how I reacted the past few days. I had some time to think about it—"

"Eight hours worth!"

"Yes, well, I've come to the realization that I am still learning how to accept help, even yours. Kindness and compassion are not naturally present in my world, and you care so freely—I've had no experience with that before in my life."

"Oh, Miranda," the young woman said, hugging her tightly.

"I still can't quite wrap my brain around the fact that you care about me. I am insufferable—sometimes downright cruel. Andrea, _why_? There must be a reason."

Andrea finished her drink and set the empty glass on the console. Wrapping her arms around Miranda's neck, she laid her head on the woman's shoulder.

"Because I love you," she whispered.

Miranda stiffened and pulled away.

"Please don't be weird about it," Andrea said.

"Andrea, please look at me," she said quietly. "I think I misheard what you said."

The young woman looked up and shook her head. "I care about you, Miranda, because I love you. And I don't expect anything in return—I wasn't going to tell you until you started grilling me about _why _I care so much. It's just… are you mad?"

"Of course I'm not _mad_," she said. "A little surprised, to be honest, but flattered nonetheless."

"Good," she said, tucking her head back against the woman's chest.

* * *

"Hard to believe it's only technically been an hour since we left Fiji, isn't it?" Andrea said as they walked through JFK to the baggage claim. "Why don't you head out to the car. I'll grab our bags," she said.

"Okay, but I'm sending Roy in to help you," she said. "I had two suitcases!"

By the time Roy got inside, Andrea already had one of Miranda's bags. She described the other two bags to Roy and headed outside, tossing the bag into the trunk before getting in the backseat.

Miranda was curled up in the backseat fast asleep, and the young woman couldn't bear to wake here, so she quietly closed the door and sent Roy a text letting him know Miranda was asleep.

When he returned to the car, he just started to drive, and Andrea couldn't help but think it was strange for him not to ask for her address. Once he pulled onto the turnpike, she realized they'd be going to the townhouse first, then he'd probably take her home.

A slight bump in the road woke Miranda and she looked over at Andrea. "Sorry, I was just going to close my eyes for a few seconds."

"You're almost home—I'll help Roy bring your things in, then you can go right to bed. Remember, you've got a reservation from 2-5pm tomorrow at the spa. Just let me know if you're not going and I'll cancel it for you," she added.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Oh, um…okay.

"I can't promise I'll be much company, given that I can hardly keep my eyes open right now, but I'm not ready to let you go just yet," she said, reaching for Andrea's hand.

Andrea bit her lip and pointed towards Roy, who would have been able to hear everything they had just said.

"I pay him to be discreet, Andrea. If we plan to spend time here in the car during the week, I'd rather him have some time to let it all sink in."

"Come here, we've still got a ways to go," Andrea said, angling her body in the corner of the backseat and gesturing for Miranda to lay against her chest. When the woman leaned back, she wrapped her arms around her waist and gently kissed the top of her head, hoping against hope that the the woman would one day love her back.

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TBC - one chapter left! hope you're still enjoying it. xo


	10. Chapter 10

The next few weeks at _Runway_ were better than Andrea could have ever imagined. She was admittedly nervous—about staying discreet, about the woman changing her mind, about losing her job in the process—but it was as if in seeing the other side of the editor, she could see her _better_.

"Em, do you think Miranda has been acting odd lately? Like, she hasn't fired anyone in a while—maybe that's why she's late," Andrea said one morning when they were organizing the items for the run-through. Miranda was over two hours late, and she was worried but wanted to make sure Emily didn't suspect anything.

"It's a good thing she hasn't gone off the deep end, Andrea. It means that for once we are actually doing our jobs. Took long enough," Emily said.

"Yeah, I guess."

Almost an hour later, the editor came through the doors.

"Andrea, my office," Miranda said as she walked in, heading straight for her office without removing her coat. "Emily, coffee. Push back the run-through."

The two assistants exchanged a look, but Emily quickly grabbed phone and ran out the door while Andrea followed the editor into the office.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"In here," she called from the bathroom. "Shut the door."

Andrea shut the office door, and hurried to the bathroom, where Miranda was leaning on the sink with one hand and clutching her stomach with the other. She quickly wrapped her arms around the editor. "Talk to me, honey. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?" she said.

She shook her head. "I don't know—that's it. I don't know."

"It's okay, that's fine," Andrea said, reaching for the woman's hand. "Come sit on the couch with me?"

"No!" she shouted, pulling her hand away. "I c-can't."

"Okay, okay, we'll stay here. Let's sit on the ground, okay?" Andrea said, helping the woman down and ensuring the bathroom door was locked.

The woman was trembling, her teeth clenched and her breath coming in short gasps.

"Miranda, look at me," she said calmly, running her hands up and down the woman's arms. The woman didn't look up, but Andrea continued. "Can you tell me about your morning? What time did you wake up?"

"4:30."

"Wow, that's early. What sound did the alarm make?"

"It was the radio—NPR."

"Ah, okay. The dulcet tones of public radio in the morning." She squeezed the editor's hands. "Did you stay in bed for a while and listen to the news?"

Miranda nodded.

"When did you get out of bed?"

"About 5:30."

"And then what did you do?"

"Showered."

"How was your shower? Too hot? Too cold?"

"It was hot," Miranda said.

"And then you what, got out, dried off, put your hair in a towel and put on your satin dressing gown?"

"Yes."

"Then you did your makeup," Andrea said.

"Yes."

"And then your hair. And then got dressed, right?"

Miranda nodded.

"What time was that?"

"6:15."

"Then what did you do?"

"Got my phone from the nightstand."

"Okay, and then what? Did you read emails?"

"No. Checked my schedule," she said.

"And what did you see?"

"Meetings all day. Run-through, budget meeting, dinner with Jason."

"And then what did you do?"

"I started to…to panic. I threw my phone."

"Then what?"

"I took a Xanax, but it didn't help, so I took another."

"And then what?"

"I don't remember," she said, looking up and making eye contact with the young woman. "Then it was 10:00 AM and I was curled up on the bed."

"So you decided to come into work."

"I wanted to see you," she said, her eyes fluttering downward.

"I'm so glad you came in," Andrea said, noting that the woman's breathing had significantly calmed. "I would have came if you called, you know."

Miranda nodded.

Andrea gently cupped the woman's cheek. She couldn't kiss her without leaving telltale lipstick on her skin, so she brushed her cheek against the woman's and smiled hugged her tightly. She was relieved when the woman hugged her back.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Of course. Walk me through your senses," she said, gently rubbing her back.

"I smell your shampoo, and I feel the cashmere blend of your sweater. It's quiet, but I can hear my heart beating in my ears—and I can feel yours against my chest. I see the door—you locked it. I can feel your hands on my back—they're strong."

"Good, good," Andrea said. "And what do you taste?"

"Nothing. Maybe mouthwash? Stale breath?"

"I wish I could kiss you right now," Andrea whispered.

"I do, too. But I think I'm okay now," she said.

The young woman pulled away and gazed into her eyes, trying to convey her thoughts through her eyes.

"I know—help me up," she said.

Andrea stood and helped the editor to her feet. She looked a million times better. "Go get your coffee," she said. "I'll be back shortly with your revised schedule."

Miranda nodded and unlocked the door, emerging from her office. "Where is my coffee? And where did she go?" she asked, pointing to Andrea's desk. Emily handed her the coffee. "Go find Andrea. Why are we not ready for the run-through?" she added, rolling her eyes before returning to her office.

Andrea quietly slipped out of the office with Miranda's coat and bag, hanging them in the closet and then proceeding to run into Miranda's office with the woman's adjusted schedule.

Miranda scribbled something down on a sheet of paper and folded it, handing it to Andrea. "Call a plumber, too—there's something the matter with the water at my home."

"Yes, Miranda, absolutely," she said, hurrying back to her desk to answer the phone. When she had a minute to look at the sheet of paper, she smiled: _come to dinner tonight. x_

Once Emily returned with Nigel and Serena in tow, they went straight into Miranda's office for the run-through. "Which one of you are coming with me to the Jason Wu dinner tonight?" she asked, turning to the two assistants.

"Umm…" Andrea stammered, looking over to Emily wide-eyed. "I-I am, Miranda," she said, shrugging.

Miranda's eyes widened. "You're certainly not planning to wear _that_ hideous sweater, are you?"

Andrea bit her lip. "No, of course not."

"Nigel, I think the Althuzarra blouse will work—the black one," Miranda said, turning her attention back to the clothing racks before her.

* * *

Later that evening, Miranda and Andrea were sitting opposite Jason, and out of nowhere, he asked, "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

Miranda nearly choked on her water and Andrea's eyes opened wide.

"I've been working for Miranda for about eighteen months," Andrea said, trying to steer the conversation. "My background is in journalism—not fashion—so this has certainly been a learning experience for me!"

"That's not what I meant," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

"Care to explain yourself?" Miranda asked.

"Miranda, I've known you for years. I've seen you interact with your staff before. This is different. You are comfortable."

The editor rolled her eyes. "The day I finally have a competent assistant trained, of course you would think there is more to it. Andrea is extremely bright, and it has served her well in her career."

He leaned over the table. "I won't say anything, you know. Trust me, I have a wife at home. I understand privacy."

Miranda's mouth was gaping like a fish.

"Yeah, the gay thing is just an act. Funny how in this industry a straight man can't be trusted," he added.

Miranda bit her lip and reached for Andrea's hand under the table. "Tell me, is it that obvious?"

Jason grinned. "No, not at all. I would just suggest not going out to dinner together dressed like a million bucks again. You can't keep your eyes off of one another."

Miranda rolled her eyes and squeezed Andrea's hand. "Even if she were wearing a burlap sack, I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off her," she said quietly.

Jason smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. Are we done here?"

Miranda nodded.

"Okay, great. I'm going to head out—something urgent just came up. You two have a good evening," he added, winking at Andrea over his shoulder.

"Oh god," Andrea groaned after he left.

"Do you want to stay? Honestly, I'd love to get out of here—"

"I'll call Roy," she said quickly, sending their driver a text.

Within minutes, they were getting into the car in front of the restaurant, and before Roy could get back behind the wheel, Miranda's lips were pressed against the young woman's.

"Is this okay?" Andrea asked, her hand resting against the woman's ribcage.

Miranda nodded.

"No," she said, pulling her hand away. "I meant everything with Jason."

"I know, and I am fine with it—at least for now," she added with a chuckle. "Ask me again in the morning."

Andrea leaned forward and captured the editor's lips in a passionate kiss. "You are incredible," she whispered, gazing into the woman's eyes.

"No, you are, and I love you, too."

"What?"

"Well I presumed that's what that look always means. It's taken me a while, but this wasn't the reaction I was expecting from you," she said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Andrea said, jumping onto her lap and pinning her shoulders to the seat. "I love that you love me too. Can I stay over tonight?"

"You better. I have plans for you tonight, darling," Miranda said, softly licking the outer shell of the young woman's ear.

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The end.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading this one. I started this story a year ago and let it fall by the wayside, so it isn't exactly what I was hoping for. To be honest, I don't remember where I was going with this one (like, why did I remove Stephen and C&amp;C?), but anyway, I hope you've enjoyed it nonetheless. Reviews are very much appreciated. I'm thinking of a new story that starts as an office fling and takes off from there. Would that be interesting? xo


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